


Ladyloves and Heartthrobs

by AliceUpdate



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drug cartels, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Past Drug Use, Post Reveal, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Sexual Content, Undercover Work, drugs and addiction, enemies au, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 65,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceUpdate/pseuds/AliceUpdate
Summary: After Hawk Moth’s dramatic reveal eight months ago, the tables have turned and Ladybug and Cat Noir are now enemies.Nevertheless, the two forsaken lovers can’t seem to get past their burning desire for each other as they keep returning to one another, knowing all very well what a dangerous game they are playing.One day, Adrien’s father convinces him to take advantage of the situation and steal Ladybug’s Miraculous from her.





	1. Good Girls Bad Guys

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> So, yeah– I’m back for yet another fanfic’ on Miraculous Ladybug (I just can’t seem to let go of our two favorite dummies :P)
> 
> Before we start, PLEASE, be AWARE that this story contains MATURE THEMES and STRONG LANGUAGE. It will treat about mental illness, the death of a character (nope, nice try, but I can’t tell which one it is yet), drugs and addiction, among others…SO please, please, if you feel triggered or just uncomfortable with these kinds of topic, DO NOT READ this fic’.
> 
> Many of the scenes in this fic’ are inspired of real-life situation I was a part of, and you can be assured that I will try my best to be as accurate as possible in my descriptions. I do not take any of these subjects lightly but I’m also not going to dwell on them indefinitely. I love drama, love reading and writing it, but, in my opinion, this kind of matter shouldn’t be added to a story for the only sake of creating more problems– they should be addressed properly and handled carefully, and that is exactly what I will be trying to do in this fic’.
> 
> I use fanfiction to develop my writing skills mostly and get a glimpse of what works and what doesn’t, so, anything that feels off, or wrong, I would be thankful if you pointed it out.
> 
> With that said, I always really enjoy reading your comments, because they’re a great source of inspiration for me and just genuinely make me so happy, so if you feel like sharing your thoughts down there, feel free to do so!
> 
> I really hope you’re gonna enjoy this story, and, if you know me from my previous works, I hope you’ll like this one just as much as you liked the other two :)

Adrien let out a deep sigh and thanked his driver before he got out of the car. It was a sunny Sunday morning and the streets were empty. Most stores were closed for the weekend, but there was always this one florist’s shop on Mouffetard Street that opened every day of the week. It was held by a sweet old woman– her name was Mia– and, over the months, Adrien has acquired the habit to stop by her once a week and buy a nice assortment of tulips, before he visited his mother.

            “Adrien, honey– It’s good to see you. How are you doing, today?” Mia’s voice was as chirpy as usual, as she got up from her stool and walked around her desk to start working on Adrien’s bouquet.

            “I’m good, Mrs. Moretti,” Adrien replied, forcing on a smile. “How are you?”

            “Did you hear about yesterday’s akuma attack?” Mia asked him instead of answering. “I was following it on the television last night. It was frightening.”

            Adrien winced and was glad Mia’s eyesight was as bad as it can get. “Yeah, I heard. But Ladybug and Rena Rouge got him, in the end– and everything is back to normal, now.”

            “This Hawk Moth person is still not given up, is he?” Mia let out in frustration, as she headed back to her desk, and laid down the flowers she had picked up on its surface. “And now, he has our little Cat Noir on his side, too… what a shame…”

            Adrien stiffened a bit. “Well, you know… he made his choice,” he shrugged. “Let’s not dwell on that, shall we?”

            Mia ignored his request– or didn’t hear it. Adrien couldn’t decide. “What the hell has gone through that poor cat’s brain?” she chuckled emptily. “I mean, I’m sure you’re just as curious as I am– Why do _you_ think about it?”

            “Uh… well, maybe he just heard the guy out and decided to give him a chance,” Adrien shoved his hands down his pockets and glanced away. “Maybe he got tired of Ladybug… I don’t know…”

            “Oh, so you think he’s trying to get back at her?”

            “What? No!” Adrien was quick to deny. “Come on, that would just be childish.”

            Mia raised both her eyebrows at him and grinned. “Well, he _is_ a child, isn’t he? He’s barely sixteen.”

            “He _was_ sixteen when he started! That was over _five years ago_ ,” Adrien reminded her, a little rattled all of a sudden.

            “Has it been five years already?” Mia inquired. She clicked her tongue. “Oh, how time flies…I guess you just get used to things,” she said, thoughtfully. “That is one very lovely ring, by the way,” she complimented him, gesturing to his left hand, where he wore his Miraculous.

            “Thank you,” Adrien smiled courteously. “It’s a family heirloom.”

            “Oh, you wouldn’t guess who stopped by my shop just yesterday!” she suddenly changed the subject, and Adrien sighed, just ready to ignore the flood of gossips she was just about to share with him.

            He rolled his eyes at her and bit on the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from saying words he would regret. “Listen, Mrs. Moretti, I’m a bit in a hurry here, if you could just…”

            “Sure thing, honey,” Mia assured him, smiling widely, but she made no effort to speed up her pace. “You know, people always do _lots_ of stupid things after a breakup. I’m sure Cat Noir will get back to his senses sooner or later.”

            “ _Breakup_?” Adrien echoed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

            For once, Mia didn’t answer, and looked away, before she handed Adrien the bouquet and charged him for it. The latter thanked her with a nod and was just about to leave, when she caught on his sleeve and made him turn around.

            He seemed a bit confused. “Is everything alright, Mrs. Moretti?”

            “I just remembered I wanted to give you something!” she exclaimed excitedly, before she skipped to the back of her store, leaving him, startled, in the middle of the shop. When she came back, she was holding on to a big box full of red roses that she tossed on the counter to take a closer look at them. “I just received an entire batch, yesterday,” she told him. “They are said to have a mystical virtue of some sort– their magic can bring anyone together… Here, have one,” she offered him, handing him a rose.

            Adrien blushed a bit, but laughed it out. “Look, Mrs. Moretti… I think you’re very nice, and I’m sure you were a very attractive woman in your prime but uh…” he started rambling, before Mia interrupted him with a nudge to his arm.

            “This rose isn’t for you, you little arrogant pest!” she scolded him, but it was obvious that she was trying hard not to smile, and Adrien just couldn’t take her seriously. She glared at him, pouting, but gave him the rose anyway. “It’s for Marinette,” she let him know, her hands on her hips.

            Adrien’s eyes bulged out in surprise and he almost choked on his own tongue. “Marinette and I aren’t together anymore, Mrs. Moretti,” he tried to remain posed as he handed her the flower back.

            Mia refused to take it. “You two have been breaking up and getting back together since the day I met you…when will you understand that you are made for each other?”

            Adrien shook his head. “We’re just very different… we uh… We have very different views on things and uh… I don’t think we’re getting back together, this time,” he said, glancing at the rose– its petals were so red they seemed to glow. “We haven’t spoken in almost a year, now.” This bit was a lie, of course– they were speaking just yesterday on the battleground, and he still remembered all the horrible things he’d said to her. “I think it’s better this way, though. We just– we don’t work as well as I thought we would.” He sighed and, when he looked back at Mia, she seemed sad. “No, don’t worry… it’s uh… it’s fine.” He shrugged. “Not a big deal. Sometimes, people just don’t work out.”

            “Do you still love her?”

            Adrien almost didn’t answer. “Yes,” he nodded. “Of course I still love her, Mrs. Moretti. She’s uh…”

            “The woman of your dreams…”

            Adrien smiled. “She’s the woman of my dreams,” he admitted shyly.

            “Give her the rose, then,” Mia advised him. “You’ll be surprised by the wonders this little flower could accomplish…”

            Adrien snorted. “With all due respect, Mrs. Moretti, I don’t think this rose is special in any way… It’s just a rose.”

            Mia grimaced. “Just take it, alright. I’m not even making you pay for it,” she said, making him laugh, before he complied and hid the rose in his flannel’s inner pocket. “Now, go, get out of here. And don’t forget to give the rose to Marinette when you see her today.”

            “I wasn’t planning on …” Adrien started, but decided to let it go when he was met with Mia’s frown. Instead, he just smiled and waved her off, before he was gone.

            Eight months ago, just about three years after Ladybug and he decided to share their true identities with each other, and started dating, Adrien discovered his father was really Hawk Moth.

            When he confronted him about it, Gabriel finally conceded and told him the real reason why his mother was gone– Adrien remembered his father struggling to keep himself from sharing too much, but after hours of him refusing to give up, even Gabriel couldn’t handle it anymore.

            And so, the secret was finally out: ever since his parents met when they were in their late thirties, after they have both been married a couple of times already, Emilie always appeared to be a little absent-minded– she was very clumsy and had a very bad memory. She frequently forgot the small, insignificant things, trivial things, like turning off the lights after she got out of a room, or more important things, like facts and essential dates or events– and when she recalled them, they were always partly untrue. She could never remember birthdays, being that of her parents and family or that of her boyfriend. She would often ask the same questions and always had an attention problem– she could never concentrate too long on a certain topic, and usually gave up within minutes when Gabriel would start talking about fashion, but the latter never saw anything alarming in any of that.

            When she turned 47, she started having some serious issues planning and solving problems. She had difficulties completing familiar tasks– she would write a note on a post-it and forget about it. She would always lose her stuff, couldn’t remember where she left her keys, her books, her clothes… Sometimes, she would find herself in town, and wouldn’t be able to find her way back home. The same year, she convinced Gabriel to hire a chauffeur, because she didn’t feel safe driving anymore. At 52 years old, Emilie Agreste was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease– it was a rare condition that only touched about 5% of all people suffering from the illness.

            The news devastated them, but Emilie made Gabriel promise not to tell Adrien anything, as she started to thoroughly follow the doctor’s treatment. Despite her eagerness to get better, however, her condition only degraded from this point on and, the summer of her 56 years old birthday, Emilie was admitted as a patient at the Hospital Center de la Maison Blanche.

            _“Your mom never left us, son. She just… she fell ill. I’m trying my best to get her back_ ,” Adrien, to this day, remembered his father saying.

            “ _By hurting people,_ ” he had accused him coolly.

            Gabriel had bowed his head then, and sighed deeply, before he had to sit down. He had taken his glasses off and rubbed his eyes frenetically, before he tried to explain himself. “ _My…_ victims _… do not even remember the time they have spent as akumas, and Ladybug’s restorative powers always manage to fix their messes. I… admit it is not the best way, but I… don’t know what else to do. Science could not help me. But maybe magic can._ ” He had paused for such a long time after that, Adrien thought he was finished, but then, Gabriel had invited him to join him on his office’s sofa. “ _When you mix a single drop of black paint into a gallon of white, the whole thing turns darker. You cannot beat evil and sickness with goodness and patience, son. You have to be just as rotten. It is okay if you do not agree with my ways, Adrien. I could never ask this from you. But you have to know that I would never do anything to seriously hurt anyone. I don’t kill– I just need the Miraculouses for one wish. I want to cure your mother’s disease– I am lucky enough to have found a way to make it happen. Tell me, now, what desperate man wouldn’t take that chance to save someone he loves as deeply as I love your mother?_ ” Adrien remembered he hadn’t found an answer to that question.

            After their talk, Adrien was sent to his room and a couple days after recessing this information in his head, over and over again, Adrien had asked his father if he could visit Emilie at the center. Gabriel was a little reluctant at first, but ended up agreeing to it and they went to visit her together.

            On their ride back home, Adrien was uncharacteristically quiet, but then, something incredible happened, and he promised his father the latter wouldn’t have to worry about Cat Noir’s Miraculous anymore, before he took his ring off and handed it to him.

            Gabriel didn’t seem surprised– he surely was, but was great at hiding his emotions– just pleased, but gave the ring back to his son. “ _Not yet,_ ” he had said. “ _You will need that to be able to get Ladybug’s Miraculous_.”

            At that very moment, Adrien hadn’t exactly realized that siding with his father, AKA Hawk Moth, meant fighting _against_ Ladybug. The fact that he knew who Ladybug was and that he was dating her, somehow never crossed the seam of his lips– and to this day, Gabriel didn’t know that Adrien’s long-term on-again-off-again girlfriend Marinette Dupain-Cheng was really the girl behind Paris’ favorite superhero’s mask.

            “Hey, Adrien,” the front-desk nurse greeted him with a big smile, as soon as he went through the elevator doors.

            “Hey, Gwen,” Adrien politely returned her smile. “How’s everything?”

            Gwen sighed, as she rearranged some folders she had scattered all over her desk. “Same old, same old,” she bit her lower lip, as the bitter memory of elderly people shouting at her came back to her.

            Adrien’s face softened. He pursed his lips as he picked out a pink tulip in his bouquet and held it out to Gwen. She seemed a little startled by this sudden display of attention, but took it nonetheless. He winked at her, and she blushed. “You work too much. You should treat yourself to a vacation, sometime,” he advised her.

            “Are you kidding?” she chuckled. “This whole place will fall apart without me.”

            “I can’t argue with that, Gwen. You’re a saint. I don’t even know how you do it– you must have some super awesome ancient goddess’s blood in you or something.”

            Gwen rolled her eyes at the flirty compliment and nudged him on the shoulder. “She’s already waiting for you in the common room. Go on!”

            Adrien giggled and blew a kiss in her direction, before he headed to the common room. Thankfully, it was almost empty, with only Mrs. Altman playing a piano sonata and two old men he’s never met before sucked up in a game of chess. His mother was by the television, looking blankly at the moving images. “Good morning, Mrs. Agreste,” he greeted her enthusiastically, handing her the flowers, as he took place on the chair next to her.

            She didn’t take them, barely even glanced at him, so he just disposed of them on the table. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, a bit nonchalant, but Adrien’s heart skipped a beat when he realized that she might have recognized him.

            He tried not to show it. “Were you expecting someone else?”

            She raised an eyebrow at him. “As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I was,” she said. “It’s this girl. She works in a bakery– the only bakery I know that sells strawberry éclairs. She always puts some aside for me. She knows I always pass by. They’re delicious. Have you tried one?”

            Adrien shook his head– he wasn’t exactly sure this bakery even existed, but still decided to go with the flow. “I… haven’t yet had the pleasure.”

            “I don’t remember the name of the bakery, of course, but I know they were situated right between a subway station and a building with a big red door.”

            “I… think I know which bakery you are talking about,” Adrien lied, nodding.

            “You should stop by it sometimes, and ask about their strawberry éclairs.”

            “I will.”

            Emilie seemed satisfied with his answer and returned to the T.V. After a while, she turned back to him and asked, “What are you doing here?”

            “I’m here to see you.”

            She blinked. “Well, maybe I don’t want to see you. What are you going to do about that?” she challenged him, smirking.

            _Well, that escalated quickly_. “Do you want me to leave?”

            Emilie considered it for a full minute, before she finally relaxed and shook her head, smiling. “No, it’s fine. You can say. You don’t bother me. Besides, you seem nice to talk to.” Adrien seemed relieved. “What’s your name, young man?”

            “Ah… I’m Adrien,” he answered, holding out a hand that Emilie took with no hesitation.

            “That’s funny,” she said. “My son’s name is Adrien.”

            Adrien’s heart skipped a beat, as his breathing grew heavier. “Really? W-what’s he like?”

            Emilie glanced away, looking dreamy all of a sudden. “He was never like other children, you know. He’s _inspired_ – always eager to learn more about the world and just so…passionate about life…” she let out a deep breath, before she turned Adrien’s way, who was watching her attentively. “He must be about your age, now. How old are you?”

            “Uh…I will be turning twenty-one in M-March.”

            “Oh,” Emilie pursed her lips, frowned, and just like that, Adrien knew he had just lost her again. He sighed. “I was born in summer,” she said. “In July.”

            _Wrong_ , Adrien thought. _She was born on the 18 th of November_. He didn’t say anything, of course. “That’s nice. You must have thrown lots of pool parties, then,” he remarked instead.

            Emilie shrugged. “I guess.”

            “Are you going to throw one this year?” he asked.

            “Maybe.”

            “Will I be invited?”

            Something devious shone in Emilie’s green eyes as she smirked at him. “If you behave, I’ll consider it.”

            “I’ll be on my best behavior, then,” he promised her.

            “You’re the first one on the guest list.” Adrien just smiled at her, and she smiled back, before she turned back to the T.V. “That’s my favorite episode, you know,” she told him, as she reached for the remote control and turned the volume up.

            “Why? What happens in this one?” he wondered– not mentioning the fact that the T.V. was set on the news channel.

            “Oh, n-nothing…they all just gather around in this ridiculous coffee shop and wonder on how their lives would’ve turned out, if things had been different, or if they had made other choices.” She paused, seemed to think about something for a second, then carried on, “if you could change _one_ thing about your life, and I mean _anything_ …what would it be?”

            _I would wish for you to be healthy again_ , Adrien couldn’t push the thought away. He winced, and glanced away– figured if he waited long enough, she would probably forget about the whole thing anyway, but, when he looked back at her, she was staring at him, still waiting for an answer. “I uh…” he frowned. “I-it’s not that simple, you know. Things are the way they are, and sometimes there’s just nothing we can do to change them. Thinking about it would just be…torture.”

            Emilie pouted. “Well, I guess you have a point,” she shrugged.

            Adrien chuckled, before he tapped on his thighs and got up. “Well, I should get going, it’s getting a bit late. Visiting hours are almost over,” he said. “I will try to bring you some of these fabulous strawberry éclairs you seem so fond of.”

            Emilie’s whole face lightened at that, as she got up as well to properly greet him off. “I’m just glad you were able to come today,” she admitted. “Even if it was for such a short time.”

            Immediately, Adrien’s smile dropped, and he seemed like he was about to cry. “D-do you who I am?” He promised himself he would never ask her this question again, but, at that particular moment, he just– he wasn’t able to stop himself.

            “Of course, I know who you are,” Emilie reached for his cheek and gently pressed her palm against his face.

            It felt nice for a second, but then, Adrien realized the spark in his mother’s eyes was gone, and the moment was ruined. “I-it’s Adrien,” he said, just in case.

            Emilie grinned up at him. “You know, that’s funny. I have a son– his name is Adrien, too.”

            When he got home after that, Adrien’s father was waiting for him in his room. He was standing still by the window, glaring down at the mansion’s gardens, probably thinking about firing his gardener because the lawn wasn’t green enough and the roses looked dead, and of course, because the giant statue of Emilie he had installed next to the fountain seemed dusty.

            “What are you doing here?” Adrien wondered, as he took off his coat and disposed of it on his bed–

            There was a time where Adrien wouldn’t have dared to address his father in such a casual, nearly unconcerned way, but, weirdly enough, ever since he discovered that the latter was Hawk Moth, Gabriel stopped being this tall, cold and terrifying, unapproachable god Adrien seemed to picture him as, and has started to look more like this heartbroken man, who had declared war on the universe to get back his wife.

            He didn’t reply right away– Instead, he turned around to face his son, and, when he did, he had a diamond ring in his hand. Adrien’s eyes rounded in surprise as he recognized it and he just had to take a step back. “What is that?”

            _Why were you going through my stuff?_ Adrien almost reprimanded him, before he realized that he was always going through his father’s stuff, and whenever he confronted him about some odd thing he would come across, Gabriel would never try to avoid it. “It’s uh…an engagement ring,” Adrien spoke in a low voice, as he tried to avoid his father’s gaze, and walked toward his desk to start and clean up the mess the latter made– there were a thousand of pictures, mostly of him and Marinette, scattered all across it.

            “I know what it is– I am not some godforsaken moron, Adrien. I-I meant w-why am I learning about it just now?”

            Ever since their latest breakup, Adrien had kept them in a little shoebox under his bed because he just couldn’t look at them anymore, and, at the same time, couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. One of his favorites was the one Alya had taken with her big camera a couple years back, when the whole gang had decided to hunt down André’s truck and get some of Paris’ best ice cream– people talked about how couples who shared an ice cream at André’s would be happy and would never grow apart but…as Adrien drearily put the photograph back in the box, he came to the wretched realization that one cannot be in love and speak wisdom.

            He shook his head and shook away the thought as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again, his father was frowning worryingly, still waiting for an answer. Adrien shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said, and he looked like he was trying hard to make it seem like he wasn’t the least affected by the whole thing. “We broke up.”

            “W-well, w-why have you never introduced us?”

            It was so obvious the whole scene made Gabriel very uncomfortable– he took a step toward his son and the latter saw him lift his arms up, looking like he wanted to hug him, and then freeze and stand back, as if he just remembered that it wasn’t in their habit to be uh… _affectionate_ with each other. Suddenly, the world renown fashion designer had no idea what to do with his hands.

            He was still holding on to the ring and carefully placed it on the coffee table the minute he realized it. He stayed by the window, as an awkward silence slowly filled up the room. Adrien let out an empty chuckle and shook his head again, as he busied himself with the pictures. “You met her already.”

            “What do you mean? Who is she?” Adrien shooed off the questions with the back of his hand, but his father insisted. “ _Adrien_? I am your father and I–”

            “It’s Ladybug, alright!” Adrien finally snapped, only grasping the significance of his words’ impact the second he spoke them. He spun on his heels and turned around immediately, taking a glimpse at his father’s face– his expression was somewhere between guilt, sadness, deceive, and complete disbelief. “I-I was gonna ask Ladybug to marry me,” he sighed, as he let himself fall on his chair and covered his eyes with his hands. “B-but that was _before_ …a-and it was a _mistake_. I was not thinking straight…I-I was…”

            “We don’t need to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Gabriel assured him, and Adrien was grateful for it– and that could’ve been the end of it, if Gabriel hadn’t had asked, “Does that mean that you know who she is underneath that mask of hers?”

            He knew he shouldn’t have answered the question. “I mean…I guess…”

            “What did you tell her, after you joined me?”

            “Nothing– I haven’t told her anything. She doesn’t even know why I betrayed her.”

            “Maybe you should tell her, then.” Gabriel’s advice was so bizarre and coming right out of the blue, Adrien didn’t believe it at first. Then, he crooked his eyebrow at him and just stared, mentally praying every god and ghost that were listening that there was more to this sentence. “You two must have truly loved each other, if you went to the extent of buying her an engagement ring Adrien,” Gabriel tried to explain himself. “Tell her about your mother and why you switched sides. If she loves you, she might understand. She could even give us the earrings.”

            Gabriel sounded hopeful, and Adrien hated to crush it. “The choice would kill her. I can’t do that to her.”

            Asking her to help them wasn’t really the problem, he later realized– he didn’t have any issue going to her and coming clean, confess that he was still completely and hopelessly in love with her, and beg her to take him back– his only fear was going to her, do all of these things, and having her say she didn’t love nor wanted him anymore.

            “Well, you could steal them, then. If you know her, and know where she lives,” Gabriel boldly suggested– Adrien wasn’t sure that was the way his father formulated his request, but he knew that was the way he heard it. He almost went mad.

            “Father…we-we can’t do that,” he said. “It’s _immoral_.”

            Gabriel sat down on the ottoman next to his son’s bed and asked him to look at him. “You know, all’s fair in love and war,” he sighed, as he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Look, w-we may finally have a shot at this now, we…we can win this thing _tonight_ i-if…”

            Gabriel was blushing, and his voice was full of crazy and excitement and didn’t match his posture– Adrien was sure he could hear the gears in his brain work from where he was sitting. “Stop,” he bluntly interrupted him. “I don’t steal. If you really want mom back, you need to fight for it, fair and square.”

            When Gabriel got to his feet after that, he looked angry, ready to storm out. “Adrien,” he said nonetheless, “open your eyes, son. You already are siding with the bad guy, here. And your mother is getting worse and worse with each day that goes by. She doesn’t need you to do the righteous thing and be her knight in shining armor…she just needs to get better. Y-you have this _golden_ opportunity, right now…so, _seize_ it, please, before it’s too late and you regret it. I’ve been doing this for almost five years now. I’m tired, Adrien. And, even though I promised myself I was going to do anything to bring Emilie back– that I was going to fight as long as necessary…this whole thing falls apart when she stops breathing. Our _m-mission_ has a ticking clock to it. Death is far too great for us to be toying with it,” he gave his speech, before he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and leaving Adrien with a giant bullet hole in his chest.

            The same minute, Adrien has called upon his transformation and has escaped through his window, like he usually did when he was upset with his father, and that was how he ended up sitting down on a random building porch, in an empty alley, soaked in rain, as he tried to keep Plagg dry, by holding a trash can lid over the little kwami’s head.

            “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it would rain.”

            Plagg rolled his eyes at his holder. “Well, maybe that’s the problem. You don’t think; you’re always so eager to act, you never stop for a minute and wonder if you’re indeed doing the right thing.”

            “Come on, Plagg,” Adrien chuckled. “It’s just a bit of rain.”

            Plagg glared at him and crossed his paws over his stomach. “I wasn’t talking about the rain.” Adrien stiffened at the kwami’s remark and he turned away from him, pouting. The little floating cat felt a bit bad about bringing up the topic, but stood his ground. “I know what you’re thinking about. Stop it. You cannot do it.”

            Adrien just shrugged. “I was thinking about running all the way over to that restaurant over there, and hope they would have some dry towels to lend me.”

            “You’re in Paris, kid,” Plagg slyly reminded him. “People don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts, here.”

            “Well,” Adrien smirked at his kwami, “I was also thinking about ordering something, of course. Are you hungry?”

            The first thing one should know about Plagg was that the little kwami maintained a very particular relationship with food– he was _always_ hungry and talking about French cheeses almost always managed to distract him from any subject at hand. Adrien knew that, of course, and, more importantly, knew how to use it at his advantage. Unfortunately for him, this time, Plagg wasn’t having it. “Why are you avoiding the subject?”

            Adrien sighed and shook his head, as he brought his legs toward him and wrapped his arms around them. “Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to talk about it.”

            Despite his nonchalant attitude and his _too-cool-to-care_ motto, Plagg really loved Adrien and worried for him. “Fine,” he complied. “But just promise me you won’t try to steal Marinette’s earrings.”

            “Ha. You don’t need to worry about that– we haven’t talked nor seen each other for almost a year, now. It’s very unlikely that I’ll even have the opportunity to do so…Basically, I couldn’t even if I wanted to– which I don’t, of course,” he quickly added, when Plagg’s eyebrows flew up inquisitively.

            “Adrien, _promise_.”

            Adrien would have probably promised and would have done anything to keep that promise to his kwami, if a pink umbrella hadn’t magically appeared above both their heads, distracting them from their ongoing conversation. When Adrien looked up, he recognized Ladybug’s shiny blue eyes behind her red-and-black mask, and his almost bulged out in surprise. She was smiling, her face, as soft and gentle as ever, before she crouched down and took place beside him. “Hey,” she said in a low voice, and Adrien suddenly remembered how much he missed it. She smiled at Plagg and the latter was so glad to see her, he flew to her and landed on her shoulder, rubbing his head against the skin of her neck.

            Adrien just blinked at her for a few seconds, as he was slowly regaining the ability to speak. “H-hey…why are you– How-how d-did you find me?”

            “I followed you,” she shrugged. “I saw you jumping around the buildings, scaring off civilians so I decided to come out to keep an eye on you,” she explained. “Then, you disappeared. I thought it was suspicious so I tried to look for you…and it seems that I just found you,” she giggled. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

            “Nothing. I just needed to get out of the house.”

            “I figured,” she sighed. “What happened?”

            Adrien shook his head. “It’s not important.”

            “Of course, it’s important,” she refuted his answer. “Come on,” she insisted when he still wasn’t talking. “Come on, Ade. Tell me.”

            “Why do you want to know?”

            Ladybug pouted. “So…I’ll know how to cheer you up.”

            “It’s not your job to cheer me up.”

            “Sure, it is.”

            “Mar–” Adrien snorted. “We’re broken up– For _real_. You don’t have to worry about me anymore. Hell, you shouldn’t even _care_ about me. And, I don’t know if you’ve read the headlines lately, but we’re _enemies_ , now. How can you trust me enough to be near me right now? I _betrayed_ you, a-and Master Fu…I-I’m _bad news_.” He closed his eyes, frowning, as he laid the back of his head against the cold, wet wall. “You’re too good for your own good.”

            “You think I’m stupid just for checking up on you,” she realized. Adrien did not answer, didn’t even open his eyes– he just shrugged. “Adrien, we haven’t spoken in _months_ – Alya even made me _delete_ your phone number. And, besides, it’s not like I was gonna tell you all about my big plans on defeating Hawk Moth and his new little sidekick,” she scoffed. “We’re not gonna suddenly get back together because of a little chat. I’m just making sure you’re okay. I know we’re not dating, but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you.” Adrien opened one emerald green eye and peered down at her. “We’ve been friends for what? Five years? At _least_ – and for you…that’s like thirty…thirty-s…? Yeah, thirty-six in human years…” Adrien chuckled, and Ladybug just smiled, staring right into his eyes, as her cheeks filled up with pink. “That counts.”

            “I turned my back on you and used my powers for evil,” he reminded her. “Why can’t you just hate me already?”

            “Because, just yesterday, you saved me from getting impaled by wannabe Joan of Arc’s spear,” she replied, smirking.

            Adrien tsked, glanced away. “Ah…it’s just by force of habit, you know.”

            “You’re still sticking your neck out for civilians, too,” she said.

            He rolled his eyes at her. “Well, I don’t like seeing anyone getting hurt for nothing.”

            “Well, if you cared half as much about getting my earrings than you cared about keeping innocent people safe– then maybe you would have gotten what you wanted by now,” Ladybug teased him, lightly nudging him on the arm.

            Adrien only winced. “God, you sound just like my dad,” he let out before he could stop himself.

            Ladybug’s eyes rounded in shock as she stared at him in complete disbelief, suddenly forgetting what she was even laughing about. “W-what?”

            Adrien was sure he would’ve been able to talk his way out of this, but, oddly enough, as he looked back at her, diving inside her sky blue irises, he just felt compelled to spill her all the truth. He glanced at Plagg, who was still lying on Ladybug’s shoulder, and the little kwami seemed curious about his holder’s next move. He didn’t say anything, though. Adrien let out a deep sigh, stayed quiet for a few more awfully long seconds, then, in the end, decided not to lie to her. “My dad is Hawk Moth,” he told her grimly. “A-and he knows I’m Cat Noir, too. I-I…yeah…it’s fucked up.”

            “Ha-have you told anyone else a-about it?”

            “No,” Adrien scoffed, “ _obviously_.”

            “I-I…I don’t know how to react,” Ladybug blurted out earnestly, her voice, filled with tears.

            Adrien just smiled at her. “Honestly, I’m just surprised you haven’t tried to run away from me, already. You could be on your way to Master Fu, right now, telling him everything.”

            “I w…I’m not gonna do _that_ …” Ladybug whispered, and Adrien almost didn’t hear her because of the pouring rain.

            He almost laughed out loud. “Why not? It’s not like I can stop you or anything.”

            When Ladybug turned back to him to face him, she seemed so serious, Adrien’s grin dropped at once. Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but then she just jerked away, blushing heavily and looking down, like she was just realizing that the words she was thinking about, should never, ever, be spoken– it just peeked on Adrien’s interest.

            “Why are you still here, Mar? Why aren’t you at Fu’s already?” he insisted, scooting closer to her. “Why do you still care what happens to me? You’re supposed to hate me. Why don’t you hate me?”

            “Because I’m still in love with you, Adrien,” she barely managed to choke out, as she angrily wiped off her tears.

            “Good,” Adrien said, before he grabbed her neck and just pulled her against him to kiss her.

            Adrien’s gesture startled her so much, Ladybug dropped her umbrella and let it roll down the stairs of the porch where they were sitting. Ice water poured on them, hitting them like lightning bolts, and then, they were making out in the rain, trying to keep their faces and jaws from freezing because of the cold. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, squeezing her against his chest, while his other hand softly stroked up and down her thigh, sometimes stopping at her knee, to try and slide her legs apart– Plagg took it as a cue to leave them alone and flew away to stand underneath the umbrella, safe from the rain. He turned around, of course, and took place on the handle, where he decided to score a little nap, as he tried his best to ignore the strange sounds that were coming out of the two humans.

            Ladybug tugged on Adrien’s hair and tilted her head to the side to deepen the kiss, before she caught on his shoulders and pressed him against the building’s main entrance door. She felt him breathe inside her mouth, as their tongues lapsed around one another, and her mind was clouded with the image of him– all she could think of was Adrien’s lips, and Adrien’s scent, and Adrien’s body, and how much she’d missed his touch, and his kisses, as she climbed on his lap, while the urging need to always find herself closer, closer, _closer_ to him, flashed uncontrollably behind her closed eyelids, like a giant green neon sign implanted right in the middle of her brain.

            “ _Adrien_ ,” she let the moan escape her, as she blindly reached for her ex-boyfriend’s shirt, lifting it just enough so she could feel his chiseled abdomen.

            His whole body shivered when her cold gloved hand went flat against his bare skin, but he made himself swallow this brief sensation of discomfort, by constantly reminding himself that _this was Ladybug for God’s sake_ , and he was kissing her, and there was no way in Hell _anything_ would ever make him let go of her– her costume was wet and felt like plastic sheets under his palms, and his fingers were turning an alarming shade of red, becoming so numb suddenly, he almost couldn’t feel them anymore– and yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to care.

            He mentally high-fived himself when he was finally able to get ahold of her suit zipper, and pulled on it, exposing her back, first, then her shoulders, and her neck, to the wintry weather, and when she didn’t say or do anything to stop him, even though she was visibly bothered by the rain as well.

            “M- _my_ …my ah… _A_ –”

            Adrien knew she was trying to say something, but still interrupted her every attempt with kisses, and biting, and groping, because he knew that whatever she wanted to say, he wouldn’t like it. Unfortunately for him, Ladybug was smart, and, after a couple more times of him doing so, she was immediately onto him.

            “I _was_ gonna say,” she purred, breathless, as she gripped on Adrien’s jaw, intentionally holding it away from her, “that my apartment is only a few minutes away…”

            And just like that, Adrien stood corrected. He smirked at her and nodded, and even had a short time to regret it, as she got off him, and he was suddenly missing her, before she scooped him up in her arms, and drew out her yo-yo, to jump on the closest rooftop, without forgetting to grab Plagg and the pink umbrella with her.

            They went through her bedroom window, dripping water all over her carpet, before she dropped her transformation and shooed Tikki away– she knew the ladybug kwami wouldn’t approve of her  latest phenomenally stupid decision, but the latter couldn’t care less about it right now– besides, she knew she would hear all about it later on, anyway.

            “Bathroom, _now_ ,” the order just went through her lips, as she hungrily nibbled on Adrien’s, dragging him to her shower by his collar.

            As she guided him through the hallways, however, she didn’t take the fact that Adrien was ultimately taller and larger than her into account, and the latter bumped into her dresser, knocking off some trinket that fell and broke on the floor–

            When Adrien, to her great discontent, let go of her to pick it up, he realized it was actually a picture of the two them, posing in their blue and gold graduation gowns right next to the podium, smiling widely as they proudly showed off their high school diplomas– “I can’t believe you framed it.”

            Adrien remembered that day perfectly– he remembered how, just a week prior to probably one of the most important nights of his life, his father was telling him that he would not be able to make it, for he was scheduled to fly out of the country to attend a crucial business meeting in Rome, or…Japan or something (Adrien wasn’t exactly paying attention.) Gabriel even tried to put the blame on his son for not telling him sooner about the event– as if it wasn’t common knowledge that the last year of high school was usually, _universally_ , followed by a graduation party– and that was when Adrien had lost it, probably for the first time in his life, and had torn up Gabriel’s invitation, forbidding him to even try to sneak in a tablet with Natalie to attend the show.

            He remembered how he had run off to Marinette’s that day, and spent the weekend hidden in her room, while Gabriel was simply going crazy back at home. He also remembered how she had helped him to pick out a tie that matched her prom dress, and how he drove to _Dupont High School_ one last time in the Dupain-Chengs’ company.

            It was Tom who took the picture. Marinette’s parents stayed until the very end, and when it was time to go home, Adrien had politely refused to ride with them, expressing the need to be left alone. His girlfriend had been very understanding and had kissed him goodbye right before she had slid inside her parents’ car, and went off for the night– he could never be more thankful that he hadn’t gone with them, because that allowed him to transform and get to them in time, right before they got into an accident, and possibly crashed right into a wall.

            “How old even were we in this?”

            “I don’t know, Adrien,” Marinette let out a deep sigh, “I honestly couldn’t care less, right now,” she confessed, yanking the picture away from him, before she took his ridiculously perfect face between her hands and smashed it against hers, growling, famished, as he quickly wrapped his arms around her thighs to lift her up and take her to the bathroom himself.

            He sat her down on the sink and moved between her legs, already working on getting her blouse off, when she abruptly stopped him, peering up at him with big blue eyes, and she looked anxious all of a sudden, Adrien wondered if had done anything to upset her. He took a step back– just enough to look at her properly, but he was still sufficiently close to touch her. “W-what’s wrong?” As much as he hated having to ask the question, he just knew he was gonna hate its answer just as much.

            “D-did you…” she began, but her voice broke, and she had to try again. “Did you uh…sleep with anyone else while uh…we weren’t– you know? _Together_.”

            Adrien didn’t answer the question directly– he just smiled a big smile and reached for the inner pocket of his flannel, where he had kept Mia’s rose all day, hoping the crazy old lady that owned a flower shop on Mouffetard Street was right, and that he would indeed run into Marinette today– that he would _indeed_ have the occasion to gift her the rose. Granted, it was all ruined by the rain, and because it had been crushed in his pocket since this morning, but Marinette seemed to love it anyway. “I only love you, Mar,” he said, before he kissed her again, this time, pressing her against the mirror, and they made love right where they were standing.

            It wasn’t before at least a couple hours later, when Adrien and Marinette were lying down on the latter’s bed, with her peacefully resting on his chest, sleeping and undisturbed, that different parts of Adrien’s brain started to wake up, each, screaming floods of nonsense, as he desperately tried to analyze the beautiful, disastrous situation he had just stepped in.

            “Don’t,” Plagg’s voice rose from among the shadows, as the little black kwami appeared above his face. “You promised.”

            Adrien was sure he did no such thing but he decided it was best not to argue. “People break promises all the time.”

            “Not you.”

            “I guess there’s a first time to everything, then.”

            Plagg did not reply– he just stared at him, his apple green eyes, full of sorrow, and anger, and hopelessness, and landed on Marinette’s nightstand, his head down, and his pointy ears, flat all across it. “You were supposed to be the best Cat Noir that’s ever existed,” he told him, and his voice was shaking a bit. “You were supposed to resist the call of evil and fight along the Ladybug. You were chosen for the purity of your heart and the light in your eyes. Please, come back to your senses before it is too late, boy.”

            Adrien glanced away. “Lights fade away and the truth is that mistakes can never be salvaged. And, in a world where evil always wins, it is not hard to switch sides. I’m sorry, Plagg, but Father was right: if you want to beat bad and illness, you gotta be just as rotten.”

            “Evil never wins, and even when it does, it loses,” Marinette’s kwami Tikki flew over to him, her face, glim and sad. “If you do that, she will _never_ forgive you, Adrien.”

            That last sentence seemed to have triggered something inside the latter’s head, because his green eyes were shining suddenly, and his whole body tensed. “You don’t know that,” he countered. “She forgave me for joining Hawk Moth.”

            “Did she, really?”

            “She said she still loved me.”

            “But does that mean she’s forgiven you?”

            “What do you want from me?”

            Tikki sighed. “I just…I want you to think this through, _meticulously_.”

            “I already have!” Adrien exclaimed in a whisper, interrupting the kwami, looking visibly irritated. “Marinette won’t even have the time to wake up and realize that her Miraculous is gone, and I would have already made my wish, bringing my mother back to us, and–”

            “Whishes are tricky. Magic take your words and twist them in awful, unimaginable ways to create monsters and give birth to your most wicked nightmares. I’m just asking you to be careful.”

            “My wish is simple. I want my mom not to be sick anymore. There’s no possible way this could get twisted.”

            Tikki shrugged, then flew over to Plagg and landed right beside him. “You’d be surprised,” she said in a low voice. “Think about it for a second, Adrien. If your mom was never sick, then there would be no need for Hawk Moth, and, by extension, no need for Ladybug or Cat Noir. Just like that, you and Marinette never would have met.”

            Adrien clicked his tongue. “Marinette and I met at school,” he reminded her. “And we’ll meet the same exact way in this weird alternate universe I’m gonna build. We’ll meet in Junior year, like in this very dimension, and we’ll fall in love, just like we did in this world. Plus, no kwamis, means no more akumas, _means_ no more problems. She and I will have even more time to ourselves.”

            “What guarantees you that you will indeed fall for the Marinette of this _weird alternate universe_?” Tikki wondered. “She might be different.”

            Adrien shook his head. “I don’t care if she’s different. She’ll still be Marinette– we’re _us_. I love her. No world can exist where our relationship doesn’t– even if we’re a billion miles apart because of my wish, I will find my way back to her and love her in even a better way that I loved her in this life.”

            Tikki smiled. “You’re confident, it’s good. But you shouldn’t be so sure about yourself, especially considering this matter.”

            “Ugly things happen when you mess with the balance of things,” Plagg continued for her.

            “I’m not messing with anything– I’m just…I’m fixing _this_ reality,” Adrien sounded so convinced by his own arguments, the kwamis felt pity for him– if she hadn’t been ordered to leave Marinette alone earlier, Tikki would’ve probably tried to wake her up and asked her to put some sense into her ex-boyfriend’s head, but her hands were tied at the present moment, and all she could do now was hope her words would appear wise and pretty enough to at least make Adrien reconsider, if only for a couple more hours.

            “I’m just a kwami, Adrien,” Tikki heard Plagg say. “I cannot stop you.”

            “Plagg, you told me that in this new reality, I will be the only one to remember how it all used to be,” Adrien recalled, and he looked down at the sleepy face of Marinette. He dove his hand in her dark hair, making her sigh, and couldn’t help but to smile at that.

            “Correct,” the cat-kwami agreed. “But are you sure you will be able to live with that?”

            Adrien nodded. “I will need all of today’s information to be able to find Marinette– I refuse to even go a minute without her being a part of my life.” He paused. “That’s why I’m the one making the wish and not my father– I can’t spend eternity waiting for her without even knowing it. Plagg…? Can you tell me what words do I have to say to activate the Ladybug’s transformation?”

            Plagg let out a painful sigh and glanced at Tikki with sorry eyes. “It’s _Spots on_ ,” he told him, just as Adrien was able to swiftly swipe Marinette’s earrings away from her, without waking her up– she always was a heavy sleeper.

            Tikki closed her eyes and hid her face behind her paws as Plagg’s comforting arm wrapped around her. They were both trembling in apprehension when Adrien put on the jewels, drawing a bit of blood on his ex-girlfriend’s covers.

            “Tikki, _Spots on_ ,” he said, and the words sounded strange coming from him. The Ladybug’s suit on Adrien’s body was only slightly different than how it looked like on Marinette’s– it was only slightly different, altered in discreet ways to make it appear a little more masculine. Adrien glanced down at the Black Cat ring, suddenly glowing and beating, big, like a second heart on his finger. “Plagg,” he called his kwami, maybe for the last time, “ _Claws out_.”


	2. Rocket Queen

Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he felt this bad–

            Wait– Yes, he remembered. It was the morning after Kim’s back to school party, a couple weeks into their senior year at _Dupont_ and right after summer vacation. God only knew how he had made it home that night… The last thing he seemed to recall that day was having this huge fight with Marinette in Kim’s bedroom– he couldn’t even tell what it had been about anymore– he just knew it had been a big one– and that it eventually ended with Marinette storming out of the room, then out of the apartment, Alya and Mylène following right after her.

            When he got back to the party, everyone had gone silent, eyeing him as he got down the stairs, waiting for him to say something– he didn’t. He just walked to the kitchen, swallowed half a dozen of Tequila shots, then spent the rest of the night mixing all kinds of hard liquor and gulping down can after can of Energy drinks every time he felt like he was about to fall asleep. He remembered he even smoked some sketchy rollup Max had offered him, before he blacked out and woke up in his bed the next morning, a tall glass of water and aspirin on his nightstand.

            His father wasn’t pleased, of course, but let him be, courteously sending him tea and crackers at punctual intervals, until his son was able to form coherent sentences again.

            This time was different, however– things felt different. For one, there wasn’t any water or medicine on his nightstand, and his bed was on the wrong side of the room. His T.V. was gone too, he was able to notice, despite the deafening pounding in his head. He felt sick as if he just raided an entire shawarma place and went on a roller coaster. He propped himself on his elbows and tried to get up, but the whole place was spiraling around him, and he fell back on his pillows.

            “ _Why did you want to talk to me, Adrien?_ ” Marinette’s voice echoed in his brain.

            “ _Look, you’ve made your point, okay?_ ” he heard himself shoot back at her. “ _I get it– You’re mad. It’s obvious that you’ve been avoiding me ever since_ Magnetron _... You’re not even trying to hide it– You’re not answering my texts…you’re n-not returning my calls…I even came to see you yesterday after school, but you refused to let me in…_ ”

            “ _My phone’s dead_ ,” she had quickly interrupted him, and suddenly, Adrien was back at the Chiến Lê’s, right in the middle of Kim’s room, with Marinette right across the latter’s bed, crossing her arms together and glancing around nervously. “ _A-and I was tired…_ ” Little to say he didn’t buy any of her excuses and had just glared at her, his hands on his hips, for a minute maybe, until she finally snapped, _“Okay! Fine! I_ am _mad at you_.”

            “ _Why? What did I do_?”

            “ _Are you kidding? You_ broke your arm _!_ ” she had accused him, hot tears flowing on her cheeks.

            Adrien had lifted both his eyebrows at her, visibly very surprised by her answer, and had peered down on the blue cast on his arm– he remembered having had to run to the emergency rooms immediately after the battle, and the fear in his father’s eyes when the doctors called him in, how Natalie was able to pull on some strings to get them a private room for the night, even though the nurses had repeatedly assured Gabriel that the hospital was full and that Adrien had no other choice but to share his room with another patient– but, with all this worrying about Marinette’s conduct these last few days, the young man had to admit he had almost forgotten about it. “ _I fell down– Big deal. It could happen to anyone._ ”

            Marinette had clasped her hands into fists to keep herself from throwing one of Kim’s pillows at her boyfriend. She shouted, “ _You fell off a_ skyscraper _, Adrien!_ ” The latter pouted and Marinette never more had wanted to punch him in his stupid sexy face. “ _You didn’t even have your pole on you!_ Magnetron _threw you off eight hundred feet– you could’ve…_ ” Her voice had broken then, and she almost didn’t finish her sentence, but she had taken a deep breath, and had decided to go on anyway. “ _You could’ve_ died _._ ”

            “ _But I didn’t_ ,” Adrien had reminded her, glancing away, and his answer only fueled his girlfriend’s anger.

            “ _You always do this!_ ” she had exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “ _You never_ think _. What is it with you and danger, huh? Why do you always feel this foolish n-_ need _to rush right at it?_ ” She had clenched her jaw and frowned at him. “ _I don’t want to go around Paris looking for another Cat Noir, but someday, your recklessness will leave me no other choice. And I will_ hate _you for it_.”

            “ _You could’ve gotten hurt…I-I was just trying to protect you…_ ”

            “ _I have superpowers, too! I don’t need your protection! Okay?_ ”

            “ _Why are you being like that?_ ”

            Right then, Adrien’s eyes flew open, making the whole scene fade to black, as he suddenly remembered why they were fighting that night– He refused to think about it and shook his head to lose the thought– It was probably the worst memory he had, and he just…he couldn’t deal with it right now.

            He let out a deep breath and got rid of his covers at once, as he tried to lift himself to a sitting position before he pushed his body out of bed. He laid his bare feet on the icy floor, while his heart was hammering wrathfully in his chest, making his blood bustle inside his ears. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t stand up, so he just let himself fall on his knees and crawled on this stomach to search for the box of pictures that was hidden under his bed– only to discover that it was no longer here.

            “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, before he realized his Miraculous was missing as well. As he slowly climbed back up to sit on his mattress, he noticed how his room has changed– it seemed smaller now and almost empty.

            There was his bed, of course, and his desk, and a little dresser in the corner, but apart from those, he didn’t recognize anything. His arcade games and gaming station were gone– his books, his CDs, his stereo…Now, his bedroom looked like a generic four-star hotel suite with a fireplace and carpets all over the ground–

            “Okay, okay– Think, just _think_ ,” he ordered his mind, as he clutched one of his pillow against his chest, before he reached for his phone that was charging on the nightstand. “Okay, so… let’s see, where th–” His voice died when he saw that, even though his phone was still the same, its lockscreen wallpaper was different– The picture of Marinette and him making weird faces and sticking out their tongues in front of a poster of him in at the St. Placide subway station had been replaced by that of a little white and brown hamster he’s never seen before.

            Immediately, he started looking around for a hamster cage he might own in this alternate reality, not really knowing what even to expect at this point. Fortunately, there was none to find, and he just settled on the idea that he must’ve found this picture on the Internet.

            As he unlocked his phone, he was stroke by the brightness of the screen and had to let go of it, squinting his eyes instantly to try and get rid of the burning sensation in his retinas. The room was still very dark, he only just noticed, and, even though he legitimately had no idea what time it was, he guessed it was still early, so he decided to go back to sleep and deal with the whole thing later– if he only recognized half of his furniture in this room, it was probably because he had finally decided to move out of his parents’ home, and if Marinette’s pictures weren’t under his bed, they were probably somewhere else in this house. He only half-believed those possibilities, of course, but he was tired, his body was drained of all its energy, and he would do just about anything right now for just a couple more minutes of sleep.

            He was sure he hadn’t closed his eyes for more than a second, when the door flew open almost violently, making his insides screech, as a woman he didn’t recognize entered, the heels of her shiny black stilettos drilling the floor at her every step. Adrien just watched her as she walked toward the windows like she knew perfectly what she was doing and pulled the curtains apart, inviting blazing angry sunshine into the room.

            “Come on, Adrien, it’s a bright day ahead of–” she said in a singing voice, and stopped as she turned around and saw that he was staring at her with a stunned face and heaving chest. She smiled and took a couple steps closer. “You’re awake, good. Come on, honey, we leave in half an hour.”

            “M-mom?” Adrien’s eyes filled up with tears and he hurried to his feet, not caring for the least about the pain in his legs or the buzzing in his head, as he ran toward Emilie and pulled her against him in a fierce hug.

            She laughed lively and wrapped her arms around him. “Adrien? W-what’s going on? Is everything alright with you?”

            Immediately, Adrien let go of her to take a look at her face– this Emilie was nothing like the Emilie of the Hospital Center de la Maison Blanche. This Emilie wore make up and took such good care of her skin, she almost didn’t have wrinkles. This Emilie’s hair was shiny and blond and beautiful, and she dressed in the latest Dior suit. “Ye-yeah…don’t worry about me…Y-you look… _outstanding_ ,” he whispered, still shocked by the whole situation– the wish _worked_ – his _mother_ was standing right in front of him, and she looked like herself again– she looked just like in his dad’s portraits.

            “Why, thank you, young man,” she giggled, taking a step back as well. “Now, go on, get dressed. We’re already late on schedule.”

            “O-on schedule…? Why? What do we have planned for today?”

            “Did you forget already? We are invited at the Tsurugis’ today, for lunch,” Emilie reminded him, pushing her son’s hair out of his eyes. “Then again, you _have_ been a bit forgetful these last couple of days… Are you eating alright?” she pouted, laying a hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

            Adrien chose to ignore her question. He shook his head to remove her hand and assured her he was feeling great. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, when his mom mentioned the Tsurugis once more, and how they were not only expecting Gabriel’s wife, but his son too. “Sebastian and Father always meet at _The Grand Paris_ for Sunday lunches…”

            “Yeah, well, that might be a little complicated to arrange, considering that we don’t live in Paris anymore,” Emilie chuckled gently. “Come on now, Adrien…no more time to joke around. Get dressed and get ready…” she told him, as she headed toward the door, and he just watched her walk away. She stopped midway and turned around, a sly smirk on her face, before she said, “I hear that little Kagami is not as insensitive to your charms as she pretends to be,” she winked at him, before she exited the room, closing the door behind her.

            “K- _Kagami_?” he echoed, a little startled, but he didn’t let the thought dwell on for too long– he had more urgent priorities to attend to at the moment, like, for example, the fact that he wasn’t even in Paris anymore, and he didn’t have the slightest idea why, or how, or where even was he– that must’ve been the reason why his room looked so different.

            He hurried to his desk and opened all the drawers and cupboards– he found a half-empty bottle of liquor and a crystal glass in one of them, notebooks, paper, pens and pencils, a stapler– he also looked for the computer he had in his previous life, but there was just a humorously thin silvery laptop– probably the latest cutting-edge model– that was left charging on a shelf, and, as he tried to open it, he realized, cursing, that he had no idea what his new password was.

            He let out a deep sigh, as he fell on his chair, before he finally had the brilliant idea to check the recipient’s address at the back of the pile of envelopes that were lying on the table. He flipped through them, in search of clues– they were official documents mostly, agency contracts he didn’t take the time to read, all sorts of bills, bank and credit card statements, among other pink letters and scented fan mail– he figured that was where Natalie (or whoever worked as Gabriel’s assistant in this world) dropped his mail every day. Of course, the ones he got from his fans were only addressed to his parcel locker at the post office, hand-written by dreamy teenagers who put hearts over their I’s and doodled flowers and cupids all around his name, and forwarded to _M. Adrien Agreste, Fashion Supermodel_ , so he decided to discard them, at least for the time being, and rather chose to focus on the other letters.

            “ _M. Adrien Clotilde Nicolas Agreste. 21, Villa des Fleurs, 78000 Versailles, France,_ ” he read aloud, before he turned around to face the skylight, at last, fully taking in the urban landscape that stretched behind his windows. “I’m in fucking Versailles?” He looked appalled by the realization, but there was another knock at his door, reminding him that his parents and he were leaving soon, and that he didn’t exactly have the time to sit down and figure out his new life, right now.

 

***

 

Lunch was awkward, to say the least– Adrien suddenly remembered why his father and he never ate together in his previous life. Silence hanged above their six heads like a sword of Damocles ready to slay any semblance of conversation anyone would dare to start and all Adrien could concentrate on was the clinking of the cutlery against the expensive porcelain plates, and the hideous chewing sounds that were coming out of each one’s mouths, as if their food was essentially constituted of dry twigs and tiny animal bones– they all sat extremely still, moving occasionally to reach for their wine glasses, but they gnawed like their faces were enormous garbage disposals full of drywall screws.

            “So, Adrien, Emilie tells me that you are quite the pianist,” said Aimi Tsurugi, sitting at her husband’s left, her shoulders, very straight, as she faced the open window in front of her– she couldn’t exactly see anything, of course, but always liked to give the impression that she wasn’t just staring idly at some random object or decoration.

            “I-I…do alright,” Adrien chuckled shyly, nodding, as he discretely wiped off his lips with the silk towel on his knees.

            “You’re too humble,” Kagami countered. “I heard you play more than once. You have a true gift,” she complimented him, but she wasn’t even looking at him and was barely even smiling. She looked more like she was stating a fact than she was flattering him.

            “Adrien’s been playing the piano since he was four years old,” Emilie praised proudly. “He even composed a few sonatas for Gabriel’s ads, isn’t that right honey?”

            Adrien was blushing. He tucked his head down and shoved a forkful of his food into his mouth to have an excuse not to answer. “Adrien is particularly talented, that is almost a certainty,” Gabriel answered instead of him, smirking behind his glass of white wine. “Not only for music, but for the sciences as well; I don’t know if I already told you this, Sebastian, but Adrien here is pursuing a degree in mechatronic engineering at the Academy of Versailles.”

            “I am?” Adrien was surprised to learn, but his father swiftly dismissed him, turning toward his friend, who looked quite impressed with the young man’s choice of studies– Sebastian Tsurugi was one of Gabriel’s oldest friends and also the C.E.O. of many large global enterprises, like _Tsurugi Medical Systems Corporation_ , whose machines were used in hospitals all around the country, or even _Tsurugi Global_ , that specialized in the improvement of electronic chips and other confidential microelectronic apparatuses he always said he wasn’t at liberty to discuss– His teams worked every day to develop high tech devices, and even Adrien knew the importance that accompanied the opportunity to work for him.

            “I never knew you were interested in this field, Adrien,” Sebastian’s voice was clear and strong, perfectly fitting to his terrifying stature. “Where do you fall off on the spectrum, exactly? Are you more oriented toward the medical field, robotics, AI…?” he started listing.

            Adrien didn’t know what to answer, and Kagami might have noticed it, because she quickly came flying to his rescue. “Last time we were talking, you told me how you were thinking of pursuing in a Master’s degree in Aerospace Engineering– how your dream had always been to someday work for the NASA and how you were working to build the perfect C.V. for them to consider you. Does the idea still appeal to you?”

            “NASA, huh?” Sebastian repeated after his daughter, placing his elbows at each side of his plate and slightly bending over the table to get a full look at Adrien. “You have quite some admirable ambitions. I like it,” he said, half-smiling at the young man. “Your modeling past could’ve fooled me, I must admit.”

            While the rest of them laughed lively at the joke, Adrien only smiled and glanced down at his plate. He didn’t know any of these people, yet they all acted like they have watched him grow. In his previous life, Adrien knew his father was closely acquainted with a man named Sebastian Tsurugi and his wife, Aimi, who was, apparently, of some kind of noble Japanese descent. He also knew they had a daughter, Kagami, with whom Adrien took fencing classes during his teen years, and of which Marinette was always terribly jealous, when they were all still at _Dupont_.

            When lunch was over and Gabriel and Sebastian went into the latter’s office to share a bottle of old cognac, leaving Emilie and Aimi in the living room, discussing some controversial article they both happened to have caught in the previous month’s release of the _Figaro Magazine_ , Adrien carefully approached Kagami, asking her to join him for tea. She agreed with a discreet smile and sat next to him on the sofa, skillfully ignoring the animated exchange between their mothers.

            “Do you ever think about our high school years?” Adrien figured he should start with a question that was vague enough not to attract any weird side glances or unwanted attention he absolutely didn’t need right now.

            Kagami, against all odds, chuckled, almost choking on the biscuit she was nibbling on. “Why do you ask?”

            Adrien shrugged, turning back to his tea instantly. “No reason. I just thought about it, right now.”

            Kagami sighed, and smiled dreamily. “I remember how easy things were, back then. No responsibilities…” she paused, “Not as much as now, at least,” she quickly corrected herself. “I liked our high school. Life was still simple when we were in Paris.”

            Aha. So Adrien did go to school with Kagami in this life, _and_ they both used to live in Paris, before. “Did we have any teachers in common?”

            Adrien knew Kagami and he were never in the same class, but he also knew they had the same math teacher, M. Purpleplum– If she mentioned him right now, he would be able to ask her about Marinette and what the latter had become, he schemed craftily. “Did you forget M. Purpleplum already?” Kagami giggled, immediately putting her teacup down. “His colored suits were _iconic_! You must remember his big black mustache, at least. It was always groomed to perfection, shining, almost as brightly as Chloe Bourgeois’ hair.”

            “Right!” he suddenly seemed to recall– he remembered he always joked about M. Purpleplum’s appearance with Marinette and Nino, and was a bit surprised Kagami knew about it. “Chloe Bourgeois was something, alright…she was in Sao Paulo, last I heard… Hey, do you happen to know about our other classmates?”

            Kagami seemed thoughtful for a second, before she said, “Well, the last memorable event I recall was that Kim Chiến Lê just became a father– but that was only because I read it on Facebook.”

            “A f-father? Really?”

            Kagami smiled and nodded. “Yeah, he had a son with his high school girlfriend, Ondine.”

            “Aren’t they a bit young to be having children?”

            Kagami shrugged. “Well, I always thought our schools’ curriculum was disputably weak, especially regarding Sex-Ed,” she joked drearily.

            Adrien preferred not to reply. “Do you know anything about Marinette?”

            “You mean Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The baker’s girl?” Kagami seemed visibly startled by his question, but answered nonetheless. “Well, I was never really close to her, you know. Last time I ever saw or heard from her was at our graduation party, five years ago. She was planning a trip to Germany– she said she had finally received an admission letter from the Berlin University of Arts. I remember it because she was actively looking for you, that night. She said she wanted to talk to you, or something. She was pretty bummed out when I told her that you left early.”

            “Why did I do that?”

            “You had a flight to catch to Vienna,” Kagami thought she was stating the obvious. “Gabriel, Emilie, and you all raced out of the school and to the airport, the second you received your diploma.”

            “Did she ever say what she wanted to tell me?”

            Kagami looked sorry, she shook her head. “No,” she said. “I had no idea this girl was important to you, to be honest,” she added, after a couple seconds of awkward silence. “You hardly ever mentioned her, before.”

            Adrien looked suddenly revolted. “I…” he began, but his words were lost somewhere in the air.

            How could have he never spoken of Marinette to Kagami before? He remembered talking about her with everyone, naming all her qualities, and everything that made her the best girlfriend ever, how he was so lucky to have her, and the disgusted faces Nino always made whenever he couldn’t shut up about her.

            “Did she try to contact you, recently?” Kagami asked, genuinely curious.

            “What? N-no, no…I don’t think so, at least.”

            “Then why the sudden interest in her?” If he didn’t know her better, Adrien was sure he could hear an ounce of jealousy in Kagami’s voice.

            He shook his head and glanced away. “I don’t know…her face just randomly popped into my head, right now. It made me think that I didn’t know much about her…” he was lying, of course– no one on this Earth knew more about Marinette than him. Except maybe Tikki, but that only because the latter was her kwami and thus spent 100% of her time with her.

            “I remember your best friend Nino even dated her for a while,” Kagami recalled, tapping her finger against her chin.

            Adrien’s nostrils dilated and he suddenly looked like he was about to break something. “ _Nino_?” The fact that he and Nino were still best friends in this reality should’ve been comforting to him, but now that he learned that the latter had _dated_ Marinette– it just…it _sickened_ him.

            Kagami nodded. “Yeah…they dated for three or four months, maybe, but it ended pretty badly, and I guess that was the last time I ever thought of her. Nino and she weren’t exactly on speaking terms after their breakup…so you and I never really had a reason to talk to her.” She sighed. “It’s shameful, really. She seemed like a very nice girl– a little scatterbrained, maybe, but incredibly sweet and softhearted. It made her a little naïve, too, I must say.”

            “Marinette isn’t scatterbrained, nor _naïve_ ,” Adrien immediately defended the one and only love of his life. “She just– she’s always thinking about so many things at the same time, and caring about so many people, always trying to make everyone happy, sometimes, she just gets lost…a-and– forgets stuff. She always sees the best in everyone and is so easy to forgive… That doesn’t make her naïve– she’s just an optimistic nature. It’s not a bad thing.”

            Kagami’s face softened. “I never said it was. But she was always so eager to please everyone, she rarely thought about herself,” she added, a bit more serious. “She always put others before her, and I know it’s an admirable quality, but…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t find it particularly appealing. I also remember she hesitated a lot before taking a decision– that bit always made me crazy. She never knew what she wanted– or was afraid to take it.”

            Adrien didn’t reply to her comment and proceeded to change the subject– they talked a bit more about their high school years, mentioning the long afternoons they spent training with M. D’Argencourt, before they drifted to their current lives– unlike Adrien, who had abandoned all passion he ever vouched to fencing, Kagami never gave up her foil and was now practicing the noble art professionally, competing in big tournaments, and was actively training for the next Olympics– before they drifted off to more equivocal matters, like the weather, or some fun fact they had recently read on the Internet, neither one of them especially wanting to enter the sizzling debate of the organized Parisian riots against the French President, and, eventually, they ran out of things to say, and just sat quietly, a little awkwardly, listening to their mothers’ conversation, until the Agrestes decided to call it a day.

            Despite the impression he got from her, Kagami and Adrien weren’t exactly on _hugging_ terms, so they just shook hands to say goodbye, before the latter joined his parents inside the limo. Emilie made some remark about the nice afternoon they had spent at the Tsurugis and Gabriel just smiled, before he asked her to remind her to send them a little thank you gift. Adrien chose not to partake in the exchange, as he placed his forehead against the cold window and let the calm swings of the car soothe him.

            Buildings and shops and people were streaming behind the glass, streets Adrien didn’t even recognize, names and places he’s never seen before, when they suddenly passed next to the RER C subway station that was headed to Paris. He straightened up immediately and asked the chauffeur to stop the car– startling both their parents.

            “Is everything okay, Adrien?” Emilie asked, placing a gentle hand against her son’s arm.

            “Yeah, d-don’t worry,” the latter reassured her, as he rapidly checked the itinerary back to the capital on his RATP app, realizing he was actually in luck because his train was leaving very soon. “I j-just need to go see someone…I p-promised them I would try to make time for them today.”

            Gabriel was visibly not pleased with this sudden change of path. “Who are they? And where are you going?” he immediately wanted to know.

            “P-Paris,” Adrien stuttered out, as he unhooked his seatbelt, his hand, already on the door handle.

            “You’re going to Paris, _now_?” his father sounded revolted by the idea, but Adrien chose to ignore it.

            “Yeah–” he sighed exasperatedly. “Look, I’m a big boy, alright? I can take care of myself.”

            “We know that, Adrien,” Emilie immediately intervened. “It’s okay, you can go. But don’t take the train on your way home. Call Serge– he will come and get you.”

            At the mention of his name, the Gorilla looked into the rearview mirror and, with an inaudible growl, confirmed Emilie’s proclamation– Huh. His name was Serge. Adrien felt a bit bad he was just learning this. He nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. I have your number, M. Serge. I will give you a call,” he said, before he got out of the car.

            He smiled brightly at his mom and waved his parents off, as they drove away, before he stormed into the subway station, looking for the gate to the RER C. It was roughly a 40 minutes ride to Paris, but Adrien didn’t care– as he checked the time on his phone, he just prayed for Marinette to still be at home.

 

He got off at St. Placide in the sixth district, and walked across the station platform, swaying in between the crowd, his phone in hand, and his face turned to the ground, to keep people around him from recognizing him. He reached the Rue de Rennes, where a burning sun was roaring in the middle of the sky. There were no clouds, he noted with a small side-smile, as he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued his route by foot– Marinette lived on Saint-Médard, a rough twenty minutes away, and, since her apartment was only a couple blocks away from Mouffetard street, he decided it would be a good idea to stop by Mia’s shop (insofar as it still existed in this reality) to get her something.

            As he strode down the familiar streets of Paris, Adrien was happy to notice that most of the little kiosques on the sidewalks, along with the elegant bistrots that sprawled athwart the pavement and the tiny unsung boutiques, squeezed against each other from the lack of space, didn’t just disappear after he made his wish– from the outside, Paris still looked the same. It was just the inside that changed.

            Adrien let out a deep sigh, as he pushed past Mia’s shop entrance, and walked into the store– Mia was one of the sole shop owners he knew that opened at all on Sundays, and Adrien felt lucky she still did so in this strange new world.

            “Welcome, stranger! How may I help you?” she chimed buoyantly from behind her desk, where she was busy rearranging some baskets of flowers, before she turned around to face her client. Her whole face lighted up as she seemed to recognize Adrien, and she smiled brightly, showing all her teeth, spreading her arms wide and inviting the young man into a hug the latter could not refuse. “Oh, Adrien! I haven’t seen you in so long! What brings you here?” she asked him, stroking his back softly, before she finally let go of him.

            Adrien returned her smile, and blushed a little. “I’m here to buy some flowers for someone.”

            Mia laughed out loud, raising both her eyebrows at him and shaking her head amusingly. “You don’t say,” she teased him, her hands on her hips. Adrien smirked and glanced away, his cheeks turning redder by the second. “Oh, oh! Let me guess!” Mia exclaimed excitedly, joining both her hands before her face. “You want… _roses_ – about a dozen. And…they must be…let’s see…” she seemed to really think about it for a second, before she said, “Red. A dozen red roses for a special someone…and she must be living somewhere nearby…”

            “How did you know?” Adrien asked, admittedly taken aback by her perfect speculation.

            Mia grinned up at him. “Why else would you come here all the way from Versailles?”

            In his other life, Adrien was very well acquainted with Mia, for stopping by her shop every Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays, to buy tulips for his mom, before he climbed atop the last floor of the Hospital Center de la Maison Blanche, to visit her, so, he didn’t exactly think about asking this new Mia– who seemed and acted exactly the same as her doppelganger– how the two of them met in this world, and how they became this close. “I moved there after graduation,” he said instead, but he was actually asking her, silently waiting for some kind of confirmation, because he felt stupid asking his parents or even Kagami about it.

            Mia chuckled. “I know that,” she let him know, as she bent over her basket of red roses and began picking out the prettiest ones. “You were accepted to the Academy of Versailles, if I remember correctly. Did I ever congratulate you for it? What are you studying, exactly?”

            “I’m apparently pursuing a degree in Mechatronic Engineering,” Adrien replied, shrugging.

            “How do you mean, ‘ _apparently_?’”

            “I-it’s ah… a _long_ story,” he sighed, shaking his head.

            Mia was quick to let it go. “If you say so… So? Why don’t you tell me about this girl, huh? What’s her name? What does she look like? Don’t leave out any details, young man!”

            “Ha. Her name’s Marinette– we went to school together.”

            Something sparkled in Mia’s eyes, as she laid the flowers on her desk, and began choosing the paper for the bouquet. “I always said the two of you were meant to be together,” she confessed dreamily. “I have a true power, I tell you– I can always sense it when two souls are destined to meet and fall in love.”

            Strangely enough, Adrien found Mia’s nattering extremely reassuring– it was enough, at least, to make him forget about all the uncertainties that were raised after his talk with Kagami earlier this day and convinced him to go through with his initial plan and surprise this world’s Marinette at her doorstep with flowers and an extraordinary story.

            They talked for quite a bit after that, before Adrien decided to get going. Mia didn’t forget to wish him luck when he walked out of the shop, but, as he ringed the bell to her apartment, Adrien was startled to find not Marinette, but an elderly woman at the door, holding a tiny toddler in her arms, while an angry old man screamed in the background.

            “Can I…help you?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at Adrien’s bouquet, which he put down immediately.

            “Ah…I’m terribly sorry, I-I think I might have gotten the wrong address,” he was quick to react. “But uh…d-do you, maybe, have any idea where did the woman that lived here before go?” he decided to try his luck.

            The old lady smiled apologetically, as she chucked a pacifier into her grandchild’s mouth. “Young man, I have been living with my husband in this apartment for the last five or six years, and its previous holder was a middle-aged man, who had had it for almost ten years– I doubt the woman you are looking for ever lived here,” she told him nicely. “But you could still check the list of the registrar with the doorman, if you want. He is always happy to help.”

            “Ah…I’ll t-try that, thanks. A-and sorry if I caused any disturbance...”

            “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

            Adrien stood for a minute maybe, alone, in the middle of the hallway, after the woman stepped back into her apartment, carefully closing the door behind her. He tried to swallow the pain and maintain a blank expression, but in reality, he was growing more and more desperate by the second– Marinette and he weren’t even friends in this reality– according to Kagami, at least– Just, what the Hell was he thinking showing up on her doorstep like this, completely unannounced, and twelve red roses in hand? She would probably just laugh at his face– No. Marinette wouldn’t do that– Marinette didn’t laugh at people’s faces.

            He let out a deep sigh and headed to the elevator to get out of the building. Maybe Marinette never moved out, in this world, he thought, a bit more hopeful, as he picked up his pace and walked towards her parents’ bakery, not so far away from here.

            “Excuse me!” Adrien called a passer-by in the street– he felt lucky the man only stopped to consider him and tried not to take the pout the stranger addressed him too personally. “Sorry,” he apologized again, seeming a bit shyer all of a sudden, “do you happen to know where _La Mie Dorée_ bakery is located?”

            The man sighed and rolled his eyes at Adrien, but the latter stood his ground– he had been walking in circles for the past fifteen minutes and didn’t exactly have any more time to lose. “Ah, yes, _La Mie Dorée_ – best macarons in Paris, right?” he scoffed, shoving one hand in his coat pocket, before he turned his back at Adrien, pointing towards the end of the street. “You’ll need to take the first right on the Gracieuse, and walk all the way until the House of Hope. You won’t be able to miss it.”

            “Okay, thank you, sir,” Adrien nodded. “Have a great day,” he wished him, before he was off.

            _La Mie Dorée_ has always been a proud little family business and Parisians’ favorite bakery– they offered a large selection of bread, going from the most ordinary baguette to the pain brié de Normandie, and every month, invented a new pastry people immediately went crazy for. Adrien remembered having tasted many prototypes of the _Fleur d’Épine_ , a rose-shaped cake essentially made of almond paste, white chocolate, and nougat– it was his favorite amongst Tom’s many concoctions.

            Owning a bakery in France was easy business– it was the equivalent of opening up a corner store, because French people could never go long without their daily dose of baguette, their Thursday morning croissants, their four o’clock sugary chouquettes, and maybe even a healthy sandwich snack to devour during lunch break, as they impatiently waited for their workday to be over so they could go home and have a proper dinner.

            _La Mie Dorée_ was particularly popular in Paris thanks to their very reasonable prices and the quality of the food– Tom Dupain sold his baguettes at barely 95 cents the piece compared to other bakeries where it could easily go up to 1.99 euros for a loaf of lesser quality bread. His macarons were baked to perfection and his cinnamon mille-feuilles were simply a product of revolution for the entire dessert industry. _La Mie Dorée_ was beside the number one supplier of many cafés and restaurants across town and catered to an undreamed-of number of events each year, gaining, every day, more and more clients.

            Adrien still remembered when Tom’s bakery was just a tiny 230 square feet shop, squeezed between a nice little showroom that had shut down since then and an Apple store that relocated a couple blocks further down the Gracieuse, and when Tom was still paying off in mortgage–

            They began expanding after Marinette’s fifteen birthday, and now, _La Mie Dorée_ had a nice terrace and an inner sitting area, one large open fridge full of sandwiches and packed cooked meals, an entire stand for their macarons, and had even hired a wait staff.

            In the world Adrien came from, the Dupain-Cheng bakery was just as, if not more, prestigious that the _Angelina’s_ , with the only difference that Tom Dupain’s pastries were still affordable by the majority of people and his bakery only existed in Paris, so, when he arrived at the place he had been indicated to by the other man, he just stared with dismay at the dull little place with the broken sign right across the street from the House of Hope, squeezed between a lingerie store and a Lebanese restaurant.

            He walked in, heart pounding in his chest, and allowed himself to calm down only when he saw that, despite its very small size, _La Mie Dorée_ still hosted many clients and Tom still had all of his regulars.

            He stood in line with the rest of them, mentally rehearsing the speech he was going to give Sabine– he would need to give everything he had, if he wanted to convince her that giving him her only daughter’s address wasn’t so bad of an idea, that she could totally trust him– that he and Marinette went to school together, that he even bought her flowers– and that, besides, he looked completely harmless in this stupid casual chic outfit his mother made him wear… He had his arguments all prepared, and he was more than ready to blow them all out, but, when it was finally his turn, it wasn’t Sabine standing at the cashier, but rather a middle-aged woman with bright red hair and big gray eyes he had never seen before.

            “Y-you’re not Sabine,” was the only thing his trembling mouth was able to pronounce, and the woman’s smile fell immediately, as her face turned as white as her apron.

            “N-no, I’m not,” she said simply.

            “Do you know where she is?” Adrien insisted, suddenly brave enough to speak.

            The cashier glanced away and fell silent– Adrien felt his fingertips grow cold and his knees were even shaking a bit, but he tightened his grip around his bouquet and stayed put, patiently waiting for her answer. It never came.

            “Is Tom here, then?” Adrien asked, undaunted.

            The woman sighed, shook her head, but gave up when she was met with the tenacious light that shone in the young man’s eyes. Only then did he notice her nametag– she was called Candice. “He’s in the back,” she told him, discretely gesturing to the big white door behind her.

            “May I speak with him?” he asked.

            Candice hesitated once more, but then, a couple more clients walked into the shop, and she realized she had been holding the line. She nodded at Adrien and led him to the other side of the counter.

            She told him where to go and the young man followed her instructions perfectly, as he finally entered the kitchen of _La Mie Dorée_.

            “Excuse me? M. Dupain?” he called Marinette’s father, who was still turning his back at him.

            “Huh? Yes?” Tom’s voice had changed, Adrien noticed, a bitter taste in his mouth. It was softer, more fragile maybe, charged with years of sadness and pain and tears, and seemed ready to break at any moment, and, when the baker turned around to face him, Adrien took in his appearance like a kick, right to his chest. “Oh, hello– How can I help you, boy?” he asked quietly, wiping his hands in his apron and taking a couple steps forward.

            He was smiling, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes– the kind you gave people because you wanted to be left alone– and it was a bit strange to see someone Adrien had always pictured as happy, and smiley, the most fervent and passionate person he’s ever met– a true _beacon_ of keenness and buoyancy– having to fake a smile.

            “Uh…hi, I– I’m Adrien,” the young man tried, shyly waving at Marinette’s dad, and instantly feeling like a complete idiot for that. “I…I’m so sorry to disturb you…”

            He looked older too, even though Adrien knew for a fact that his parents were much older than Marinette’s– His skin was wrinkled everywhere and appeared yellowish, and tired. He was still a very tall man, with the top of his head still grazing the ceiling, but his posture was awful– he was stooped, weighed down by what seemed to be worry and tragedy. Adrien immediately started to imagine the worst.

            “I’m looking for Marinette, a-and I was hoping you could uh…put me in touch with her?”

            “Why? What do you want from her?” His reaction was a bit brusque as he eyed the young man suspiciously, which Adrien noted was so out of character– Tom had always been a people’s person– He loved meeting new friends, exchange, interact, get to know and learn things, and he was generally very easily trusting, but all Adrien saw on his face now was grief and maybe even a bit of annoyance– He hated this kitchen he used to see as his most prized possession, and he hated Adrien who had dared to disturb his peace.

            The latter glanced at the flowers he held in his hand and blushed, and, immediately, Tom’s face softened. “I…” _I want to marry her_ , he thought, but he couldn’t say that to her _dad_ – “I just wanted to tell her that I was back in town. I-I went to an old address I thought was hers, but it turned out she didn’t live there and…well, I came here.”

            “How do you know each other?” the baker asked.

            “We uh…went to school together, actually.”

            Tom raised both his eyebrows in surprise. “ _Really_? How come have I never heard of you?”

            “Ah– I guess we weren’t as close as I…hoped we were,” Adrien sighed.

            Tom didn’t reply anything to that. Instead, he pressed his arms against the cold surface of his working table and took in a deep breath. He looked like he had bad news to share, and Adrien swallowed audibly, ready to take them– so far, except for the return of his mother, of course, this world has nothing but disappointed him. “I think that I need to tell you that I am not sure my Marinette today is the same Marinette you have known in school,” Tom confided in him. “She had changed a lot, these past years– You might not recognize her at all.”

            “Why do you say that?”

            “The accident,” the baker explained, and Adrien’s face went pallid, suddenly remembering the car crash _Cat Noir_ had prevented, the night of their high school graduation. He dropped Marinette’s flowers on the ground, and Tom Dupain was still talking, but his brain was buzzing like a furious bee, and his ears were full of pumping blood, and he couldn’t hear a thing. “Losing her mom that night, really got to her” Tom announced, looking down at his left hand, where Adrien did not find his golden wedding ring. “Sabine passed away five years ago.”

            The shock of the revelation made his soul bleed. “I-I…am…I’m s-so… I… _sorry_ , I-I d-didn’t…” Adrien tried to say, but something inside his body was clutching at his chest and preventing him to form coherent sentences.

            It was his fault.

            _His. Fault._ _He did this–_ He _wished_ for it. He _killed_ someone.

            _A mother for another,_ a sinister voice whispered at the back of his head, and Adrien was going to be sick. He wanted to die. It was his fault.

            “I could give you her last known address, if you want,” Tom suggested, picking up his bouquet for him, and Adrien suddenly realized he must’ve had missed a big part of the conversation– he nodded, and Tom smiled, reaching for a pen and some paper he left in a drawer by the window, and quickly scribbled blurry lines Adrien said he could perfectly read, before he thanked him and was on his way– he couldn’t stay another second in this bakery, knowing…what he knew. He had needed to get out, and now that he was out, he needed to run– so he ran, roses in hand, looking like a damned moron on the streets of Paris, but he didn’t care. He needed to find Marinette. _Now_. He just… he needed to explain– he needed to apologize. He needed to _fix_ this.

 

***

 

A hungry moan escaped Marinette’s lips as one of the two men she had returned home with nuzzled against her neck, marking his way toward her beating pulse, while the other one was busy undressing her. Their names were somewhere along the lines of Joseph and Valentine…or something…she didn’t really remember– she didn’t really care– she only knew that they both had dark hair and clear eyes and that they were very attractive, and she recalled having thought that she absolutely needed to see them naked.

            Valentine (or was it Joseph?) just finished unbuttoning her pants, taking his time sliding it over her milky legs, before he licked his way back to her underwear and tore it off her with his teeth. Marinette shivered, feeling suddenly the cold air of the room hitting her everywhere, and wrapped her arms around Joseph’s neck to kiss him languorously, while Valentine had placed one of her legs over his shoulder to have better access to her. She grunted inside Joseph’s mouth, responding to Valentine’s expert tongue movements, but had to back away eventually to catch a breath. The latter then pushed her against the wall, uniting both their bodies in one passionate embrace, as her panting became more and more insisting.

            Joseph watched them, a sly smirk on his face, enjoying the show on his own, before he ripped his jacket and shirt off and stepped toward Marinette to do the same to her. Catching one of her breasts in his hand, he let his other one slither across her stomach, beginning a soft descent toward her sex, from which he separated Valentine’s face to take over.

            “My bedroom is at the end of the hallway,” she barely managed to choke out, laying her head against the wall, her brain divided between relishing Joseph’s careful touch and savoring Valentine’s scorching kisses.

            “But beds are so boring…” said one of them. “Why don’t we just stay here?”

            From this point on, the whole evening turned blurry and, when she woke up in her bathtub the next morning– but knowing her it was probably already early afternoon, Marinette couldn’t remember how she got there, or why she was laying on top of a man she had vague memories of talking to last night.

            “’Morning,” he greeted her, still half-asleep, when he felt her moving above him.

            “Hey,” she said, yawning, as she repositioned herself in his arms, this time, laying her back against his abdomen, still not ready to cut short her sleep cycle. He hugged her against him almost instinctively and buried his face in her neck. “Did we really sleep together last night?”

            “Yup,” he sighed lazily.

            “Yes…” another voice answered and, as she followed where it was coming from, Marinette found Joseph resting his head against the toilet seat, looking greenish and sicker than ever, before a violent spasm went through him, luring him into stick his head down the toilets again and throw up.

            “What time is it?” she asked him, when he was done.

            “I don’t know,” he shrugged, chugging a full bottle of ice water to get rid of the horrible taste in his mouth. “3 or 4 P.M. maybe?”

            “ _Shit_ ,” Marinette cursed under her breath, getting up suddenly, and picking up some clothes on the ground to cover herself, before she got out of the tub and tried to stand on her feet. Her legs trembled as she walked toward her sink, splashing her face with water, before she said, “you two need to get out of here.”

            Joseph gagged again, but his stomach was already empty, and all he could get out was gastric acid and a breath smell of rotten eggs. “If you’re trying to get rid of me, I’m probably gonna die in the next minutes– Ugh…my head is killing– How are you even standing up?” he complained, wiping some saliva from the corner of his mouth. “I saw you– You drank more than the two of us combined.”

            Marinette winked at her reflection in the mirror, ruffling up her hair, so that we won’t look like she just spent a night in a bathtub– but her mascara had dripped all over her eyes and her mouth was all dry and smelled like vomit and alcohol. She didn’t know whose boxer she was wearing if she thought about it, and didn’t even bother to button up her blouse, as she idly wet a towel she picked up on the floor to wipe off all the dry makeup on her face– She felt just as hangover as the two other guys looked, of course– she just knew how to deal with it. “Years of practice,” she said.

            “Shhh!” Valentine demanded, turning around in Marinette’s tub to find a more comfortable position.

            The latter rolled her eyes at the both of them and sighed deeply. “Come on, don’t you have like jobs to get to tomorrow or something?” she grumbled, but she left them be and walked to her kitchen.

            Disregarding the dust on the counters and the old empty bottles that were lying on the ground, Marinette opened her fridge wide, grabbing her egg holder, before she slammed the door closed with her foot. She took a clean glass from her cupboard and emptied egg yolk in it, a bit of Sprite that was left in a can by the sink, salt, and a couple drops of hot sauce– She didn’t bother to mix the whole and just swallowed down the content of her glass at once. The mixture made her retch, but she placed her hand against her mouth to keep herself from throwing it up, took three deep breathes, and reached for a cigarette on her kitchen island, using a stove lighter to ignite it.

            “Breakfast of champions, isn’t it?” a voice, that wasn’t Joseph nor Valentine, spoke behind her, startling her, and, as she turned around and was faced by Luka, leaning against her kitchen wall, she just glared at him and decided to ignore him. “You shouldn’t drink that,” he advised her, when she picked up what was left of a bottle of cheap whiskey from the floor. “It’s the worst thing you could do, right now.”

            Marinette bottomed up what was left in the almost-empty bottle just to mess with him and smiled a big smile full of teeth, as she drank the smoke of her cigarette. “Hair of the dog,” she said simply, tossing the bottle in her trashcan, and raising a fist in the air when she scored. “What are you doing here, Luka?” she asked, visibly annoyed by his presence. “How did you even get it?”

            “Your doorman gave me spare key the day you asked me to co-sign your lease, remember?”

            “Still doesn’t justify you using it to break in into my apartment…” she pestered him.

            “I was worried. You haven’t answered any of my calls, lately,” he told her. “And I was right to be worried. You look like Hell– You probably smell like it to.”

            “Oh, _fuck_ you,” Marinette scoffed.

            “No, thanks,” Luka replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where were you last night?”

            “Why do you care?”

            He shrugged. “Because I do. Now, tell me.”

            Marinette let out a scornful laugh, inhaled one last puff of smoke, before she lighted out her cigarette in a cup of cold old coffee she forgot on her microwave. “Are you still in love with me, Luka? After all these years? Is that why you care?” she mocked him meanly, sneering at him, as she climbed up to sit on her countertop.

            Luka’s face turned white at the accusation as he forced himself to stand up straight. He tried to say something, but words got caught in his throat, and he glanced away, a bit ashamed he didn’t find anything to say back to her.

            Marinette didn’t miss any of it and smirked wildly, giggling like a deranged demon-child. “I _cannot_ believe you!” she exclaimed, clapping in her hands at the news.

            Luka tried his best to ignore her, as he shoved his hands down in pockets and sighed deeply. “When’s the last time you showed up to work?” he asked, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “How’s Igor doing?”

            Marinette rolled her eyes at him and got down on the ground. “He’s doing great. I just saw him last Thursday– he had to cancel yesterday because he had a soccer tournament or something like that. He just got an A on his last bio test– Not that’s any of your business,” she said.

            “Maybe it’s not my business, but I can see how much you care for that kid– He’s a fuckup. Just like you,” Luka added, frowning at her. “It must be the reason why he only listens to you. But it’s great what you’re doing with him– you’re saving him from this future,” he said, gesturing to the slum that was Marinette’s apartment.

            The latter glowered at him. “Thanks, but I don’t need your recognition, Luka.”

            “You can go back to school, you know. You could get a teaching diploma and turn your whole life around. Igor loves you– You have a way with kids. And you’re hella’ smart. Don’t let it go to waste.”

            “I’m perfectly satisfied with the life I’m leading, thank you for your concern,” she let him know, as she walked to her fridge to grab a beer. She looked calm and unshaken exteriorly, but, on the inside, Marinette’s blood was boiling, and she just wanted Luka out of her apartment. She defied him with a nasty look, as she chugged down the whole bottle, before throwing it in the sink, and burping right there in the open before she lighted up another cigarette.

            “You’re a freaking time-bomb, Marinette!” Luka finally exploded, taking her cigarette from her and crushing it under his foot. “Look at you! Y-you’re…” His voice broke off when he realized he had been screaming at her, and her eyes were slowly filling up with tears. He glanced away, blushing, and feeling awful, and he was just about to apologize, but his mouth suddenly forgot how to work.

            “I’m _what_ , Luka?” she insisted, scowling at him, challenging him openly as she chucked another cigarette between her teeth, and lighted it, never once letting go of his nervous gaze. “Is _failure_ the word you are looking for?”

            Each time he tried to bring up the subject, Luka felt like an insensitive asshole immediately afterward, when his eyes inevitably glimpsed at the white scars that tattooed horrible mandalas on Marinette’s hands– five years ago, the latter lost everything– her mom– and all dream she ever had to become a world-renown fashion designer– and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to make it right.

            Marinette was severely injured during the accident– she broke both her legs and her fingers got crushed under a car door. Broken glass pierced her everywhere and she almost bled to death, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. She was put in a medically induced coma for a week after that, then spent almost a whole month in the hospital, subsequent to that night’s events. She missed her mother’s funerals and, despite the doctors’ best efforts, she still lost partial function of her hands, leaving her unable to draw, or sew, or perform any sort of cautious meticulous manual work– her condition forced her to drop out of college and give up fashion, and, from this point on, everything started to go downhill.

            “You’re _killing_ yourself, Marinette,” Luka sighed, head and shoulders down, as he couldn’t hold her gaze much longer. “Your mom wouldn’t have wanted this lifestyle for you.”

            “Yeah, there’s lots of things my mom wouldn’t have wanted– like ending up six feet underground before her fiftieth birthday…but life’s a bitch– so get a fucking helmet and deal with the all the crap you are being force-fed daily,” she snapped at him, stumping her hand against the table, and she was about to add something else, when there was a knock on the door, quickly followed by the doorbell ring.

            Marinette sighed deeply, taking her cigarette out of her mouth to stick it between Luka’s lips, before she stepped out of the kitchen to answer the door. She was angry, her brain fuming, as she walked across her living room, but all sentiment of rage and irritation left her suddenly, when she was faced with the face and body of twenty-one-year-old Adrien Agreste, who was standing on her doorstep, holding a very pretty assortment of red roses.

            She just stared at him for a full minute, not knowing what to say, or how to react. She hadn’t thought of him since the night of graduation, didn’t talk to him in five years, and even though she still remembered _yearning_ after him all through high school, they were never close, they rarely talked back then, and she had legitimately no fucking clue what he was doing here. She raised an eyebrow at him, immediately remembering to button up her shirt, and asked, “Uh… Can I…help you?”

            “You probably don’t remember me,” was the first thing that escaped his perfect mouth, and Marinette kept herself from pouting before the ridiculous humility that made him into the oblivious moron he always was and that, apparently, even after years of growing up and maturing, was still an important aspect of his personality. “You’re probably gonna think this is all very stupid but I– Um, uh…Hey, I’m Adrien. We went to school together, and I was h-hoping y…”

            Marinette’s eyes rounded in surprise when he handed her the bouquet. She glanced at him, completely bewildered, before Luka walked up behind her, and asked her what was going on. “I…I’m not s-sure…” she answered truthfully, looking between him and Adrien.

            The latter panicked the second he saw Luka, and how close he was standing to Marinette, and suddenly, he got sick, stepping back so quickly, his back hit the wall behind him. “Ah– Uh… S-sorry, uh…sorry, I didn’t– I-it was a m-mistake– I must’ve gotten the wrong a-address…I’m so sorry to disturb… Ah!” he let out a grunt, as he fell to the ground, butt first, but he got up before Marinette or Luka could even move, and ran towards the building’s elevator, still mumbling sorries and excuses under his breath.

            Marinette was with someone else– Of course, she was. She was perfect– Anyone would be lucky to even have her attention– and he had it all, but he had been stupid, and now he got tricked and had lost everything. The world around him was blurry, as he walked out of the elevator, speed-dialing his driver to come and pick him up, because there was no way in Hell he was going to spend a second more in this city, and he just wanted to get out of here, and go back home, and find refuge in his mom’s arms, because, apparently, that was the only thing the Miraculouses agreed to give him– they gave him back his mom, and, in return, they took everything else away from him.

            When he got out, he hurried to the first dumpster he saw and flung the roses in it, before he bent over and threw up, because that was it and his body couldn’t take it anymore. He cried in the middle of the street, alarming some passersby who speeded up their pace when they saw him, to try and get as far away from him, as quickly as possible, and then, a miracle happened, and Marinette’s face appeared at her window. “Hey!” she called him, cupping her hands around her mouth to make sure he was hearing her. “Everything alright down there?”

            Adrien snorted and tried to smile. No. No, everything was a mess, and he just wanted it all to end. He wanted to wake up and make this reality a terrible nightmare– He wanted to wake up right now and find her in his arms, sleeping, with her earrings still on, and Plagg and Tikki playing hide-and-seek behind her curtains. He wanted to be able to tell that he loved her more than anything and that he wanted her back right now. “Uh– Y-yeah… Don’t worry about it!” he yelled back. “It was just a tough weekend.”

            She laughed– Adrien could just spend the rest of his life listening to her laugh on repeat. “Yeah, I could tell. Are you gonna be okay?”

            He shrugged. “I guess so– I just feel like I’m bad tripping, but I– I’m positive it’s all gonna fall back into place soon enough,” he assured her, but even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

            “Hey, wanna do something fun to take your mind off it?” she randomly suggested.

            Adrien didn’t believe his ears. “A-are you for real?”

            She chuckled again. “Sure. Why not? I already wasted my whole Sunday anyway,” she told him. “I’m coming down, wait for me, ‘kay?”

            “Uh…yeah, alright!” he agreed, and he thanked the heavens Mia had earlier blessed their couple because he was certain this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for her believing so strongly in them.


	3. Miss Nothing

 

Marinette let out a soft giggle as she slammed the window shut and walked back into the living room. She picked up some clothes and her shoes that she had left on the ground, next to the coffee table, and, as Luka saw her slip on her skinny black jeans and matching heeled boots, he suddenly missed the Marinette that used to show up to class, late, as always, in her old dungarees and ridiculous flannels, her hair tied up into a messy bun, as Band-Aids and chipped nail polish wreathed her fingertips.

            “Going somewhere?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously. He had his arms crossed on his chest and was laying his back against the door, blocking her way out.

            Marinette looked amused. “Obviously,” she remarked. “I have some business to attend to.” She glanced down at her shirt, which she had barely taken the time to button-up. “That ain’t mine,” she realized then and, maintaining eye-contact with Luka, she took it off. The young man with blue hair couldn’t help down a blush when he established that Marinette hadn’t been wearing any bra underneath, and he had to turn around to keep himself from staring at her inappropriately– he heard her laugh at his hasty decision. “What?” she wondered, still chuckling– He imagined her bending over, looking between the sofa’s cushions for something to cover herself with, as she added, “it’s really nothing you haven’t seen before, you know.” He didn’t bother with a reply.

            A few awfully long seconds passed by, and Luka could feel his face getting hotter and redder, before Marinette assured him that she was once again fully clothed, and that he could now turn around safely. He did, but found it rather difficult to hold her gaze, as he kept avoiding it for another full minute.

            She didn’t seem to care, or notice for that matter, as she reached for her keys, hidden somewhere amongst the mess, and shoved them in her jeans rear pocket, along with some cash he saw her take from a wallet that was definitely not hers, laying on the carpet. He was about to comment on it, but refrained– he didn’t need another confrontation, and besides, he didn’t owe the guy anything. If anything, the latter had it coming.

            “What about the guys you left in your bathroom?” he asked instead.

            At that, Marinette seemed genuinely confused. “What about them?”

            “Are you just gonna leave them there?” he wondered.

            “Well, you can stay and make them some pancakes, if you want,” she scoffed, as she put on her jacket and walked toward him. He didn’t budge, still standing between her and the door.

            “What if they ask for your number?”

            “They won’t.”

            “What if they do?” he insisted. Marinette rolled her eyes at him and stepped away. She reached for a clean piece of paper on a shelf and hastily wrote down a series of numbers on it, before she handed it to Luka. “That’s not your number,” he said.

            “I know.”

            “Whose number is that?” he instantly wanted to know.

            “What’s with all the interrogation?”

            “Just tell me...”

            Marinette’s smile widened. “It’s Tina’s,” she told him, and Luka’s eyes rounded in surprise.

            He was so shocked suddenly, words died in his throat. He tried to force them out, but only managed to look ridiculous, as his mouth kept on closing and opening soundlessly for some twenty seconds or so. He definitely wasn’t expecting that name to be spoken any time soon. “Tina…as in my _ex-girlfriend_ Tina? The one that dashed bleach all over my clothes and scratched my LPs when I finally grew the balls to break up with her? _That_ Tina?”

            “The one and only,” Marinette confirmed proudly. “See, when I meet those guys, I already know that there’ll be _zero_ future for us– So I all tell them my name is Tina, and give them this number,” she explained. “For the last nine months, at least, your jerk of an ex has been receiving _lots_ of unsolicited…let’s say _steamy_ pictures, and had been drunk dialed in the middle of the night more times than I can count.”

            “How can you possibly know that?”

            “I follow her on Twitter,” the young woman answered simply. “It’s a small price to pay for the Hell she made you live, don’t you agree?”

            “Wait, let me get this straight…so you’ve been going and giving out my ex’s number to random horny dudes…just to _mess_ with her?” Luka wasn’t sure if he should be angry or impressed by Marinette’s very unique, very diabolical stratagem.

            She shrugged. “She was a dick and I never liked her. It makes me smile each time I get to make her day slightly more awful.”

            “Yeah…that’s not a good enough reason to do that,” Luka asserted nonetheless– he was amazed by his friend’s perfect little revenge plan, he had to admit, but, unlike Marinette, he still tightly held on to his morals. “You know it counts as harassment, don’t you?”

            Marinette pouted at the remark. “The bitch keyed your drummer’s car and pepper sprayed your bass player, just because her ego couldn’t handle you leaving her. This resulted in two of your best musicians quitting, which made you lose a five thousand euros contract,” she reminded him. “She ruined two of your most expensive guitars and indirectly forced you to hire that…that douchenoggin’ you call a lead singer. I would’ve let it go if she only hurt _you_ , but she hurt the band, and your future, because she couldn’t handle rejection,” Marinette sneered. “I’m just trying to get her to put her big girl’s pants on and stop treating people like shit.”

            “You’re not exactly the best cutout to tell people how to live their lives. I saw you steal the money.”

            “Don’t worry… He won’t miss it.”

            “How do you know?”

            Marinette sighed and rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever,” she chuckled emptily, as she took the 10 euros out of her pocket and returned them to their owner. She went back to Luka after that, holding out a steady hand. “I need to take the bus– I don’t have anything on me.”

            “Are you serious?” She shrugged. Luka exhaled noisily, as he reached for his wallet and took out a 20-euro banknote that he handed her reluctantly.

            Marinette took it without a problem and shoved it in her pocket. “Thanks. Okay, then– See ya,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

            “You still haven’t told me where you’re going.”

            “To Church,” she winked at him. “’m going to purge myself from all my sins.”

            “Are you messing with me?”

            Marinette giggled. “Totally.”

            “Why are you taking this guy with you, anyway?”

            “’Cause he looks clean and rich enough that bobbies will leave us alone,” she replied honestly. “Plus, this way, if I get caught, you won’t have to bail me out.”

            “Wait– why? What are you gonna do?” Panic tainted Luka’s voice as he pronounced the words, but Marinette was already in the elevator by then, acting as if she couldn’t hear him.

            She smiled at him one last time, in a rather provocative manner, before the doors closed and she disappeared. He could’ve taken the stairs and followed her –he would’ve caught her in the building’s entrance hall and insisted for an answer– but, as he came to realize over the years, Marinette Dupain-Cheng did whatever Marinette Dupain-Cheng wanted, and not even him could make her change her mind– Besides, she would probably just lie to him anyway, right to his face. She had gotten pretty good at it, too. So, all he could do, really, was stay around and be there for her, and wait until she was finally ready to rebuild her life.

            _It has been five years_ , the thought crossed his mind, as he took a look around her apartment. But she was getting better, he had managed to convince himself– There was a time where she wouldn’t even have considered giving the money back.

            “Hey, douchetards,” he called the two guys that were still sleeping on Marinette’s bathroom floor. “Time to get out of here. It’s almost 6 P.M. Your mothers are probably worried sick.”

            “And who the fuck are you?” one of them responded, eyes closed, still unable to move a toe.

            “I’m the one who’s gonna fuck you up real hard if you don’t get out of here right this second,” Luka threatened them, leaning against the side of the bathroom door.

            They were empty threats, of course, but he had been cleaning up after Marinette’s messes for so long now, he had at last come to the recognition that intimidation was the best way to quickly get rid of half-dead hangover guys who were too sick to care about overstaying their welcome.

            He threw the shirt Marinette had on earlier at the one who wasn’t wearing any and groaned to appear a bit more fearful. “You have ten seconds to get up before I call the cops.”

 

***

 

“What are we doing here?” Adrien whispered into Marinette’s ear, but the latter stayed still, her hands tucked under her thighs, as she kept on staring ahead of her, frowning at the Virgin Mary’s marble statue.

            “Why, praying, of course,” she replied, as if it couldn’t be more obvious.

            Tom had been right– Marinette didn’t look like the Marinette Adrien used to know, at all. She didn’t even sound like her old self either.

            She was skinnier –so thin, it was almost worrying– and paler. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in months. It was different when she smiled now, and she had deep dark circles under her eyes, digging giant holes into her cheeks.

            She looked tired. Her gaze seemed hollow, as if the imperial blue of her irises had been washed out by grief and tears and heartbreak.

            “Are you even Catholic?” he asked. He felt uneasy, sitting next to her on the empty church bench, staring at religious icons and gold statues of saints he wouldn’t be able to name.

            “Not really, but I _am_ a fan,” she replied, snickering.

            Adrien didn’t exactly know what to expect when he followed Marinette down the aisle of the Church of Saint Sulpice, but he went along anyway. The evening Mass didn’t start before two hours at least, although the church kept its doors open all day long.

            On his way in, Adrien had counted three people scattered along the benches and a group of German tourists taking pictures of the frescoes on the walls and ceiling, led by a blond man with a thick beard and a terrible accent, who told them about the church’s story, how it had been destroyed and rebuilt many times in the past, and how it had hosted the nuptials of famous personalities, like Victor Hugo and Adèle Foucher, or Camille and Lucie Desmoulins… many of which were today buried in the church’s cemetery.

            An old man in a trench coat had been sitting in the very back, both his hands on his cane and his head tipped down, as he mumbled holy verses to himself and prayed on his rosary. He was gone now, Adrien noted, along with the Black woman who had kneeled before the Communion table, and kissed the Cross of the Christ, and the only ones that were still there were him and Marinette, and a man with white hair sitting next to the confessional.

            “But are you really praying?” Adrien wanted to know. It was a ridiculous question to ask, he was aware of that, but he asked it anyway, maybe because he never really learned how to pray himself.

            At that, Marinette turned toward him and smiled. She laid a soft hand against his cheek and stroke it gently. He blushed– she took pride in it. “I’m almost done, I swear,” she said.

            Adrien just nodded and let her be. After a couple of minutes, he saw a priest walk out of the confessional and disappear behind a curtain– when the latter realized the young man was staring at him, he smiled politely, adjusted his collar and greeted him with a nod. Adrien returned the gesture nervously, before turning back to the five golden candles set on the altar.

            A few seconds passed by before the man with the white hair Adrien had spotted earlier on decided to stand up. He was wearing a gray suit, elegantly cut, with a pink tie and light brown shoes, Adrien was sure had been designed by his father. The man headed down the aisle, brushing with his fingertips the top to the church benches as he walked passed them, and stopped in front of the giant Cross to salute it. He stayed there for an entire minute, almost, before he turned around and went all the way back. Adrien thought he was going to leave after that, and was almost surprised to see him stop and enter the empty confessional– even more so when he realized he entered the one Adrien had just seen the priest exit.

            “I’m not sure how it works and all…but is he even allowed to do that? I mean…didn’t he just see the priest leave?” Adrien wondered. When the man didn’t come out for some time afterward, he asked, “do you think he’s waiting for something?”

            His heart skipped a beat as Marinette leaned toward him, smiling widely, and pressed her lips against his jaw. “Yeah, _me_ ,” she answered in a very low voice, as she licked and bit on her lips. She was suddenly so close he could hear her breathe. Her hand was on his back after that, her fingers running up and down his nape, lightly curling around his hair, sending warm shivers all across his spine. Gradually, the air around him grew heavier, and hotter, and he felt a bit ashamed having such inappropriate thoughts in a church. “Will you be here when I return?”

            Adrien wanted to comment on how sketchy and suspicious this whole scene made her look, he really did, but the words never came up, and he just nodded instead.

            “Thanks, Adrien,” she said. “I’ll see you in bit, okay?”

            Adrien watched her, completely stunned, as she got off the bench and joined the man in the confessional. He did not move, however, and tried his best to act normal when an elderly woman with wrinkles all over her face made her way to the front row.

            “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Marinette giggled into the confessional window, before she slid it open.

            The man was there, eyeing her from his side of the box looking like he was containing his anger (or was he just very nervous?)– He still made an effort to speak quietly, though. “W-who’s the guy you brought along? I t-thought I was told you would come _alone_.”

            “Well, I guess that’s too bad, then… ‘Cause that’s just how I work. So, you either deal with it or find someone else to do the feat, right?” Her voice was soft, her face, vacant of any hint of emotion, and her gaze, unflinching.

            Eventually, the man had to look down. “O-Okay, l-let’s make it quick then.”

            “You got the stuff, grandpa,” the young woman remarked.

            “Right.” The man reached for the tiny plastic bags he had in his jacket’s inner pockets and handed them to Marinette. There were four of them, filled with white powdery dust, and she hid them in her bra– he decided best not to comment on that. “They’re a hundred grams each, I weighed them myself.”

            “I only handle small transactions,” Marinette clicked her tongue. “Easier to carry. I’m sure you get that. Uh…did you want to add anything?” she asked, when what seemed to be her new accomplice didn’t budge.

            “Actually…I was hoping… I wanted to discuss uh… _payment_.”

            “Listen, gramps,” Marinette let out a deep sigh, snickering to herself. “We’re kind of in the same boat, you and me, aren’t we? We’re the ones who show up at the place of rendezvous to pick up the luggage and then go on and deliver it,” she said. “We’re the dumb-dumbs the police will keep an eye on, thinking we’ll lead them right to the heart of this whole… _operation_. Little do they know that we’re just a couple of broke idiots, in need of money. We don’t know anything, because _they_ are smart enough to keep us in the dark.” She paused and took a long look at the man in front of her.

            He had nice gray eyes and some wrinkles around his eyebrows– he couldn’t be more than thirty-five. He seemed scared, too. She assumed it was his first time doing something like that. It made her smile.

            “Meanwhile, the _real_ bad guys have the time to clean their shit up and flea, if necessary. You and me? We’re just little pawns. We’re insignificant. But…it pays the bills. If you want your money, you should ask for it,” she advised him, a bit more serious. “Be assertive. Next time you get a phone call, you _demand_ what they owe you. But do _not_ threaten them, you hear me? Don’t be stupid, for Hell’s sake.”

            The man nodded frenetically and glanced away. “Y-yes. T-thank you.”

            Marinette shook her head. “Don’t thank me. Look, I don’t know what got you here in the first place– but I’d tell you to get out before it’s too late,” she instructed him. She seemed sincere. “Now, I’m gonna get out of here. You wait your turn _five_ minutes, before you’re out, got it?”

            “Yes.”

            “Cool.”

            “I-if y-you don’t mind me asking…” he dared to intervene, just when she was about to leave.

            Marinette rolled her eyes at him. “What now?” She sounded annoyed.

            “How-how did you get _here_? I-I mean…”

            “I do mind,” she said, angry, suddenly, and one could perfectly picture smoke clouds flying out her nostrils.

            The man looked down instantly. “I… _sorry_.”

            She shook her head again and sighed, and the man really thought he was never going to get an answer, when she said, “I just… I fucked up, man. And it cost my dad some big bucks.” She shrugged. “Not a very interesting story.”

            She was about to add something else, but thought better of it, and then, she left. The man remained seated for another five minutes, as it was demanded of him, before he was off as well.

            “What were you doing in there?” Adrien asked Marinette, when they got out of the Church. They were walking down the streets now, and he still didn’t know where they were going. He was just following her.

            She didn’t answer.

            “Marinette?” he insisted. “I’m sorry…but all of this looks _really_ suspicious and I…are you even listening to me?”

            “Hey, can you stop mentioning this for like a _second_?” she hissed, looking at him blankly. His eyes rounded in surprise as he didn’t know how to respond to that. “This place is full of _cops_ , okay? Act normal, _jeez_ ,” she ordered him, before her whole expression changed, and she was smiling again. She took him by the hand, interlacing their fingers together. “It’s getting darker,” she noticed, lifting her head toward the sky. Dark clouds floated above them, obscuring the city. “I think it will be raining soon.”

            “What game are you playing at?” Adrien frowned at her, immediately letting go of her hand.

            “I’m not playing at anything,” she assured him, looking as sweet as ever. “Come on, let’s go in there,” she suggested, taking back his hand, as she led him into a small shop hidden somewhere along an empty alley.

            “ _The Pleasure Chest_?” Adrien read the pink neon sign on the front door out loud, as he let Marinette drag him inside. “Where are we?”

            “Trust me, would you?”

            It was a sex shop, Adrien quickly came to the realization as he passed by the leathery outfits displayed on the mannequins, and strolled past shelves gorged with colorful dildos among other toys he definitely did not know how to use.

            Adrien was sure he has never been in a sex shop before. The ambiance was quite… _unique_ , to say the least. All lights were out, except for one or two effervescent light bulbs that illuminated stalls of sexy magazines and this month’s best erotica compilations– There were even giant white luminescent letter cubes on one counter spelling ‘ _Sex is back_ ’ in cursive.

            He decided to play it safe and stand by the condoms, pretending he was in a drugstore or something, while Marinette went around the store’s newest models.

            “Did you uh…want to buy something?” he shyly asked her, picking up a box of flavored condoms, and seriously contemplating the idea of purchasing it.

            “Ouh… _minty_ ,” was her only reply, as she took a peek at what he had in hands over his shoulder. “Got anyone special to impress?” She was smirking, it was her new way of smiling, he guessed, and she looked amused, but her eyes were empty– There used to be light in there, a sort of weird dancing juice Adrien could just spend the rest of his days in, but it was gone now.

            “Uh…n-no,” he admitted, as he put the box back. “I-I…” He was certain there were supposed to be more words following, but he wasn’t able to pronounce them, and soon enough, they were lost forever.

            “I need to go to the bathroom,” Marinette announced. “It’s in the back. Will you be okay in here? I’ll be quick,” she promised him, gently grabbing his arm.

            “S-sure.”

            Adrien didn’t know why he was still following her around after the scene he had prior witnessed, nor why he was agreeing to wait for her in a sex shop as she disappeared again –she didn’t disappear, he recalled, she said she was going to use the bathroom– but he still…did.

            This Marinette was different, there was no denying that, but her touch still felt the same– Her voice still managed to send fireworks and earthquakes along his body. She still smelled the same, of vanilla leaves and green coffee beans, even though he could still taste the alcohol and the cigarette smoke on her clothes.  And, above all, he still wanted to be with her.

            He remembered Tikki warning him about appearing in a world he wouldn’t recognize and be faced with people he wouldn’t know. He replied that he didn’t care– that it wouldn’t change anything. That he would love Marinette _unconditionally_ , anyway. He figured _this_ was why he couldn’t just _leave_. That _this_ was why he stayed here, standing by the condoms, overhearing the most disturbing bits of conversations and feeling weird all over, as he patiently waited for her to come back. He owed her that, at least.

            “You know, we have lots of other cool stuff,” some employee at the shop came up to him, gesturing to the wide selection of _The Pleasure Chest_. “Do you know what you’re looking for?” she asked him.

            Adrien blushed and tried to smile, as he put back some gel he had found to its place– it was labeled _oral pleasure gel for him_ , and he was just wondering how it worked, where did it go. “N-no, no ah…I’m actually w-waiting for my _friend_. I’m not here to buy anything. She just went to the bathroom.”

            The employee seemed rather confused. “I…’m pretty sure the bathrooms here are staff only,” she said. “Does your friend work here?”

            Adrien never felt more stupid than at that precise moment. “ _Shit_ ,” he mumbled under his breath, suddenly getting all worked up, it almost scared the young woman that worked here. “I’m…I am sorry b-but uh…does your store have a back exit, by any chance?”

            “Uh…y-yeah…it’s r-right over there…why?”

            “I’m so sorry, I have to go…”

            Marinette was outside, just as he’d expected it, and she was talking to a guy who had a hoodie on. Adrien couldn’t see his face exactly, but he could tell he was of the dangerous type.

            “What the Hell is that?” the latter almost screamed, rage and terror revving in his voice, at the sight of the blond man.

            “The _fuck_ , Adrien? I told you to wait for me,” Marinette was angry as well. “Go back inside. I’ll be there in a bit.”

            Adrien knew his first instinct would’ve been to apologize and obey, of course, but then, he saw what they were handling, and overcame the feeling. “What are you guys doing in here?”

            “Are you _fucking_ serious Red?” the man with the hoodie pointed an accusing finger at Marinette, who stepped back instinctively– Immediately, Adrien wanted him dead. “What the _fuck_ were you thinking bringing someone with you?”

            “I-I…I’m _s-sorry_ , okay? L-look, I can handle him, alright?” she was stuttering– she seemed afraid.

            “Well, obviously, you _can’t_.”

            “He won’t say anything!” she sounded panicked now, glancing around her nervously. “I-I’ll make sure of that.”

            “You better.”

            “Hey! Don’t you talk to her like that!” Adrien suddenly exclaimed, outraged, as he stood between Marinette and the other guy.

            “Adrien, _stay out of this_ ,” she said, eyeing him furiously. “Get out of the fucking way.”

            The blond man didn’t say anything to that and complied, a little disconcerted, he stepped out of the way. Mariette frowned at him one last time, before she turned back to the hoodie man and handed him the plastic bags full of stardust that she kept away from sight.

            “Hey! You a cop? I wouldn’t mind slicing your throat in that very alley, you know,” the guy threatened Adrien.

            “Kan, he won’t talk,” Marinette assured him again. “Take the damn shit.”

            “Way to say my name, Red,” Kan scoffed, taking the bags from her. “Where’s the rest of them?”

            “What the fuck do you mean? That’s all your newbie gave me,” Marinette replied.

            “Don’t play tough with me, Red. You know the protocol. Imma have to search you,” he paused, glanced at Adrien suspiciously, and added, “and your little boyfriend, too.”

            “I could strip for you right here, right now, Kan, you won’t find anything,” Marinette stood her ground. “That’s all I got. Now, give me my fucking money and get out of there before we draw even more attention to us.”

            “Empty your pockets.”

            “I told you, I got n–” she tried to defend herself again, but the other guy wouldn’t take it.

            “Fucking do it, Red,” he cut her off.

            When she didn’t budge, Kan stepped toward her and did it himself. Marinette had to close her eyes to lesser the sentiment of pure humiliation she felt at that moment, as he disgustingly ran his hands all along her body. Next thing she knew, he was turning toward Adrien, who shot him a threatening look, but she silently begged him to let it go.

            “See? I have nothing on me, you sick fuck. Now, give me my money.”

            Kan sneered at her, as he reached for a small roll of money he kept in his jacket’s pocket and gave it to her. Marinette did not look pleased.

            “That’s only the half of what you owe me, asshole.”

            “Well, I ordered four hundred grams of stardust, didn’t I? All I got was those three little bags. You want the rest of it? You go and get me the last hundred grams that mysteriously disappeared.”

            “Are you seriously that retarded or do you just don’t understand French? _I do not have anything else on me_.”

            “Then you won’t get anything else from me,” Kan responded. “One _last_ chance…” Marinette didn’t move– she just stared at him with hatred and anger in her eyes, as she shoved her money in her pants’ rear pockets. “Bye, Red,” Kan smirked at her, lifting a hand to brush over her cheek– she kicked it off immediately. He laughed. “As always, a pleasure doing business with you…”

            When he was gone, Marinette could finally breathe– but Adrien refused to let her off the hook that easily. “You’re dealing,” he accused her.

            “No,” she denied. “I just carry it.”

            “That doesn’t make it any better. Why drag me into this? I could walk to the nearest police station right out and rat out both of you.”

            Marinette couldn’t hold down a giggle. “These roses, earlier…were they for me?” she wondered. Adrien blushed, and glanced down– That seemed to have shut him up. “You won’t say anything,” she said softly, leaning her back against the cold wall, as she quietly waited for her knees to stop shaking.

            After a while, she realized that it was standing up that actually hurt her, so she just laid down on the ground and brought her legs toward her, squeezing them against her torso.

            When Adrien finally chose to sit next to her after she saw him hesitate for a full minute, she snickered to herself and asked, “Why the Hell did you come back into my life?”

            She sounded sad– Adrien wondered if it was regret he heard in her voice. “Why not?”

            She snorted. “Because you’re Adrien fucking Agreste. What do you care about someone like me?”

            “What does my name has to do with anything?”

            “You’re kidding, right?” Marinette scoffed.

            He shook his head. “No, actually.”

            “Come on,” she chuckled emptily. “Is this some kind of prank or what? _Adrien Agreste_ , the perfect little fuck… _All the girls wanted him, all the guys wanted to be him_ … Ha. I think I always knew I was wasting my time and energy on you but…I-I don’t know…maybe I felt some kind of special because you actually took the time to try and decipher my babbling…but you were nice to everyone, weren’t you? And I was so _naïve_ to believe I ever stood a chance to be with you…” She glanced away. “You know the drill… The competition was hard…and all.”

            “What happened to you? You didn’t use to be like that,” Adrien said. “I-I c-could help you, i-if you want…I…”

            “No, Adrien,” she refused to let him go on. “You cannot show up out of nowhere, after an _eternity_ of not giving a damn about me, and tell me how I should live my life. If you cared even half as much as you pretend you do, you would’ve come to see me at the hospital, five years ago.”

            “I’m ah…sorry about that,” he apologized, because he wasn’t sure what one was supposed to answer to that.

            “The worst part is… I actually hoped you would come by. Every day, I told myself…this is the day. This is the day he’s gonna walk through that door and ask me how I am holding up. This is the day I’m gonna see him smile at me, and it will light up my whole world. What a fucking moron…” she whispered to herself. “I can’t blame you for that, though. Not giving a fuck is actually a pretty good life motto.” She was crying– she was trying to hide it, of course, but Adrien could still see the tears. He hated it when she cried.

            “But I do…give a fuck.”

            “Whatever. Was that all?” she queried, swiftly wiping away the light sobs that escaped her eyes. “Or did you want to give me a lesson on how to shit in the morning?”

            “I came back into your life because I wanted to tell you that I love you. That I’ve always loved you.”

            At that, Marinette froze, as thousands of different emotions swirled inside of her. At that moment, she needed to break something, or scream, or just hit her head on the wall so hard she would pass out and sleep through the pain. “Yeah, well…you don’t get to say that,” she replied. “You don’t even know who I am.”

            “I know you better than anyone else.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Your favorite color is silver,” he said, to prove his point.

            She pouted. “That was a lucky guess.”

            “No, it wasn’t. Your favorite word is _fungus_.” Marinette chuckled, as he began listing everything he knew about her. “Yeah, I know. Weird, right? But you just like the pronunciation of it. You tell everyone your favorite movie is _Pulp Fiction_ , but it’s actually _Freaky Friday_. The one with Lindsay Lohan. When you were five years old, you wanted to make your little cousin laugh, so you inserted a Q-tip into your ear and pierced your eardrum. There was blood _everywhere_. The doctors fixed you an artificial tympanic membrane, but you can’t go too deep in the ocean, or go hang-gliding for that matter, because then, you could potentially lose your hearing.

            “When you were eight, you were invited over to friend’s house, along with a couple of other kids. They were being really mean to you, making fun of you and picking on you, so, and it is one of your biggest regrets today, you waited for them to get out of the room, and you cut off the hair and dismembered all of their Barbie’s. You’ve never felt more satisfied than when you saw those bitches cry…”

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about…” Marinette snorted. “How do you even know about that? I’ve never told anyone.”

            Adrien smiled at her craftily. “Your grandma gave you your very first sewing machine when you were twelve,” he went on. “The first thing you ever sewed was a blue handkerchief with green poppies all over it. The second thing you designed after that was a pair of socks for your mom’s birthday.”

            She shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Adrien…” Marinette sighed. “We talked like maybe twice in _three_ _years_ …and that was _it_. I dated your best friend for like a couple of months…our breakup was _nasty_ …and that’s probably the closest we’ve ever been, you and I. I was seventeen. I was _stupid_ …I made _stupid_ decisions. Then, my mom died and I…” she stopped talking suddenly and glanced down at her hands. She was wearing gloves, but they were still shaking. “I made dangerous decisions, too. Kan’s harmless when compared to the other shits I have to deal with. The world is very unforgiving towards little no-life junkies like me– we’ve just gotta do what we've gotta do to survive, you know?”

            “I’m so sorry…”

            She chortled. “Why?”

            “Because you’re the love of my life…and I _abandoned_ you.” The words burned. He didn’t think saying them out loud would hurt this much. He made a wish, and it came true, and now, the world was a mess. “But I’m going to fix this,” he promised her.

            “How?” she asked. “There’s nothing to fix, Adrien. A-and… you didn’t _abandon_ me… You were never part of my life, to begin with,” she reminded him, shaking her head. “You should go…before it rains.”

            She was on her feet after that, but had to hold on to the wall to keep herself from falling. Adrien got up as well, holding her upright, as he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.

            “D-don’t…” she sighed, letting go of him.

            “I was just trying to help…”

            “Yeah, well…I don’t need it.”

            “M-maybe _I_ need it…” he replied and saw her go still.

            She wanted to say something back, but didn’t. She just stared at him idly, as if she was going over complicated equations in her head, before she stepped back, shoved her hands in her pockets, and said, “I want you to get the Hell away from me. I don’t need you. I don’t know you– You almost cost me my life tonight.” Her voice was cold– it tore him open and filled him with ice and pain and black smoke. Then, it started to rain. Blazing drops of acid running down his skin.

            When he opened his eyes, she was there, holding his gaze. “Why did you bring me with you, then?” he managed to say.

            “Because even the most suspicious, vicious little delinquent would look like an angel next to you. I have cops and criminals at my heels ever since I ratted out a guy that ended up in jail. Undercovers are what’s wrong with this world, I think,” she scoffed. “I figured if they saw me with you, they’d leave me alone. And I was right…no cop came to me, today. Tell about that luck, am I right?”

            “Why would cops follow you around? You’re not a drug dealer.”

            “I’m a smuggler, Adrien,” she said, licking her lips. “It’s just as bad. They think I can give them access to the big guys. They’re wrong, obviously, but I’m their only lead. Kinda sad, if you think of it… Besides, Roger knows my dad– they went to the same school. He has a soft spot for me– wants me to do the right thing and whatnot. That’s why I’m still walking free.”

            “Why don’t you stop, then? Walk out of the business. You can get your life back.”

            “You wouldn’t understand,” she swiftly dismissed him. “You’re so perfect and righteous…it’s sickening.”

            “I-I’m _not_!”

            “Oh, yeah? When’s the last time you did anything wrong? Did you ever kill someone? Did you steal?” she wondered, with mad eyes and a wide smile. He looked down, didn’t answer. “Go home, Adrien,” Marinette said, looking a little more serious. “Forget today and go back to your life. It would be a shame to waste it on a ghost.”

            “Don’t say that…p- _please_ , Marinette. Don’t push me away.”

            “That’s what I do. I push people away– Eventually, they listen to me and leave me alone. Others are still too dumb to get the memo,” she told him. “Don’t be like the latters. Take the hint, already. I’ll be better off without you anyway.”

 

***

 

Fu had just put on his pajamas and was readying himself to bed, when he heard a knock on his door. At first, he thought it was nothing more than the wind– winter thunderstorms could be brutal in Paris, strong and wild enough to cut down giant trees and dispatch entire electricity courants. But, as the knocks persisted, he finally decided to get out of bed, put on his slippers, and look for himself, see if there was indeed anyone out there.

            “Wayzz, hide out. We may have company,” he whispered to his kwami’s attention, and, at those words, the little floating turtle immediately faded into a kitchen counter, disappearing in a cupboard.

            There was a man on his porch, drained and drenched to the bone. He looked lost and afraid, so Fu invited him in, wrapped him up in a warm blanket and served him some hot tea. It was a rather dangerous thing to do, to trust a stranger into one’s own house, especially for someone who lived in the city, but the old man came from a different era, where people still trusted each other and were always ready to help.

            “I’m so sorry to just barge in like this…b-but I- I just…I didn’t k-know where else to g-go a-and…well, I just…” Adrien tried to sound coherent, but only managed to stutter senselessly.

            “Why don’t you start by telling me your name, young man?”

            “It’s ah…A-Adrien.”

            Fu smiled gently. “Well, Adrien, would you care to tell me what happened?”

            “I’m _Cat Noir_ ,” Adrien blurted out– He figured he would just rip off the Band-Aid and say it. He was Cat Noir, the holder of the Black Cat Miraculous.

            Fu frowned, a bit confused. “I’m not sure I understand you properly… W-what’s a cat noir?”

            “You chose me to be the holder of the Black Cat Miraculous,” Adrien said, and Fu’s eyes rounded in surprise.

            The old man straightened up immediately, looking rather severe all of a sudden, and more reserved. “How do you know anything about that, boy?”

            “I– I’m not from this reality,” Adrien admitted. “I come from another world, w-where you assigned the Ladybug and the Black Cat Miraculouses to me, and my partner, to help you retrieve the Moth Miraculous.”

            “ _The Moth Miraculous_?” Fu echoed, astonished. “Do you know where it is?”

            “N-no! _No_!” Adrien exclaimed. “I– That’s not why I’m _here_ ,” he said in a calmer voice.

            “Then why?”

            “I-I need you to give me the Ladybug and the Black Cat Miraculouses, Master,” he answered.

            “Are you out of your _mind_?” Fu almost laughed out loud.

            “No, listen to me, _please_ ,” Adrien begged, and Fu couldn’t but comply. “I need to return to my previous life. I can’t stay here. I need to fix things. P-please… You need to believe me.”

            “How did you get in here in the first place?”

            Adrien shook his head. “I made a horrible mistake…I– I stole my partner’s Miraculous,” he confessed and saw Fu take a deep breath. “I made a wish and it brought me here, and now, I desperately need to go back.”

            A long minute passed by, and Fu was still searching for the right words. “If what y-you’re saying is the truth…then you have committed a dreadful crime, Adrien,” was all he said. “I cannot help you. You must bear the consequences of your actions. I am sorry.”

            “N-No, y-you don’t understand…I– I have to fix things. I need to go back…I can’t leave her like this.”

            “Leave who?”

            “M-Marinette! My p-partner. She was Ladybug and now she– I _cannot_ leave her here, not like _this_ … I need to get things back to normal.”

            “Things are still perfectly normal,” Fu countered. “You just need to get used to it.”

            “You don’t understand…”

            “I understand that you need to leave now,” Fu interrupted him. “And that you are very _lucky_ that I _cannot_ hand you over to our uh… _authorities_ – If you are indeed who you pretend to be then I’m sure you know very well that I am a fugitive as well. Though, I hope for your sake that they will not find you,” he added. “You can finish your tea. But I want you out of here by then.”

 

***

 

Luka was long gone when Marinette returned home.

            She left her shoes in the hallway, as she slammed the door shut behind her and made her way to her bathroom. It still stank of booze and sex in there. There was vomit everywhere and empty bottles on the ground. The smell was so intoxicating she had to open a window.

            Wind and rain burst in like a mad spirit and froze her bones. Ghosts and demons chanted around her. She tried to flip the lights on, but the electricity was off.

            She turned toward the mirror above the sink. She looked awful– Her whole body was wet and shivering, her makeup rolled across her face. Her clothes were ruined. She laughed at her reflection before she reached for a comb in a drawer.

            As she ran her hand through her hair, she detached the clip that held the fourth 100-gram-bag of cocaine from her head, where Kan never thought of looking. Marinette had long, thick hair and it looked so dirty and tousled, she could hide almost anything in it.

            “ _Fuck_ me…” she sighed to herself, as she opened the bag and trickled some powder on the thin fangs of her comb before she shoved it against her nose and breathed it in. She waited a few seconds for her world to make sense again, then screamed in delight, as she took in another dose.


	4. Sweet Lullabies and Angel Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /!\ DISCLAIMER /!\ The first scene contains some graphic depictions of drug utilization- it can be disregarded for it is only a memory, and you can immediately skip to the part that isn't in _italic_

 

_With her good hand, Marinette reached for the bottle of water on the ground. It was warm and bubbly, had probably been sitting there for days, maybe weeks, but it was still unopened, and that seemed to be enough for her– she inserted the syringe in and drew up about 40 units that she squirted into the cooker. Then, she watched as it moved gently across the white powder, slowly turning to liquid smoke._

_She grabbed the green lighter on the coffee table and flicked it on as she placed it under the spoon. The heroin started to bubble and she inhaled the sweet sent that escaped the aqueous mixture. It almost made her belch. Suddenly, her limbs were shaking uncontrollably as she scoured through the contents of her bag and seized a lonely cigarette she had left in there. She bit off a small piece of the filter and spat it into the middle of the burning liquid–_

_She clasped the plunger end of the syringe between her jaws as she aimed the tip of the needle into the center of the cigarette filter, and then pulled back with her teeth, until it went dry– 25 units. Her heart raced at the realization, pounding against her skull, and she could already feel her underwear get wet, as her sex beat furiously between her legs. The drug’s smell was enough, she said, like ghostly fingers tickling her core, readying her body for what was about to go next– she rode out the feeling, as a loud moan escaped her, before she tossed the cooker away and began to shake the syringe up and down, as she carefully tapped over the top. “What the fuck do I care about air bubbles killing me,” she snickered to herself. She blurted out the thought before she could stop herself and got scared as it was pronounced– for the first time in many times, Marinette took her time de-gazing the solution, doing it very meticulously, as she tried to maintain focus._

_She alternated arms daily– or her veins would’ve collapsed from overuse a while ago. Worse, she could’ve contracted a vile infection under her skin. Junkies died all the time, but there was rarely anyone to miss them._

_She glanced down at her arms. They both looked like dartboards– she couldn’t find any clean hit. “Fuck.” She spread her fingers apart and finally decided to shoot in the little space between the middle finger and the ring finger of her left hand. She’d seen people doing it before– they said that the blood flow was good there, that it shouldn’t take much time for the drug to fuse into her system. She also knew it will hurt much more than if she injected it from somewhere along her forearms, because the tissues were apparently more delicate and sensitive._

_“_ Ring around the rosy, Pocket full of posies, Ashes, ashes, we all fall down… _” she sang quietly to keep her mind off the pain, as she inserted the needle in her flesh. She hissed at the sting of it but pulled back on the plunger nonetheless– a dash of red-blue blood snaked up to the middle of the clear liquid. She was in, she thought, grinning. “_ Feel the lovely sunshine, Flowers all around, Hop a little hop right off the ground. _”_

_She squeezed._

_“_ Ring around the rosy, Pocket full of posies, Ashes, ashes, we all fall down… _” Everything went warm, she could finally relax._

_She laid her back against the sofa and sighed deeply. The ceiling seemed so high right now, and the room was spinning, and her muscle ache was gone. She brought her hands to her face to cover her eyes as she let out a mad laugh. She didn’t feel the scars anymore –she could move her fingers normally again– and then, she remembered the night her mother died, the image of her, lying idle on the ground, blood, everywhere, tainting the shattered pieces of window glass, smelling like death and fire and Hell._

_Marinette couldn’t move, couldn’t get to her. She screamed her dad’s name over and over and over, but he was unconscious, and so was Sabine. She remembered crying. Her graduation dress had been torn up, her diploma, lost in the chaos, and everything hurt so much she could barely breathe. And then, she realized her mother was no longer doing that. Breathing._

_She had witnessed the whole scene– How that pedestrian had appeared out of nowhere and how brusquely her dad had turned the wheel around to dodge him. God, how now she wished he had run him over. The car flipped, then crashed against the wall._

_When Marinette opened her eyes, they were full of tears and sobs had built up in her chest. She had to push herself out of the sofa to get up, before she reached for her phone, somewhere between the cushions. She didn’t need to look for Luka’s number– she knew it by heart. He ignored the first call, and the second one as well, but answered right away when she tried it again._

_“Marinette, I hope you have a good reason waking me up in the middle of the night,” he yawned into the handset. He sounded sleepy– Marinette almost felt bad. “Come on, it’s four o’clock…what are you still doing up, anyway?”_

_“Luka,” she said quietly, her voice like a whisper. “Luka, can you come over, please?”_

_“What is it, Marinette?” he asked, this time seeming nervous. “What’s wrong?”_

_“I’m scared. Please, come. Luka, I don’t want to die.”_

 

 

“ _Marinette Dupain-Cheng_? Wow…really? _Damn_ …I haven’t heard from her since like…forever,” Nino giggled dully, as he took a sip of his coffee. It was a little cold now, but still sweet and creamy, just how he liked it. He was comfortably sitting on the terrace of the _Café Flore_ with his best friend Adrien, watching, as people passed by. “So? She still hot?” Adrien scowled at his comment– Nino just snorted. “ _What_?”

            “Don’t talk about her like that, man…”

            He rolled his eyes at him. “Whatever. So? Tell me. Did you two talk or something? What’s she been up to since _Dupont_?”

            “Yeah, we uh…catched up,” Adrien nodded, glancing down at the club-sandwich sitting idly on his place, still untouched. He pursed his lips together. “She’s changed.”

            “Yeah? How so?” Nino didn’t really seem interested, but he still asked, out of politeness surely, and because it appeared important to his best friend.

            “Ah…you know– People grow up after high school. Real life gets in the way and everything,” Adrien remained vague on the subject, but his friend did not insist. “I…w-wanted to uh…ask you something.”

            “Okay. Shoot.”

            It wasn’t an easy question to just blurt out, Adrien was more than aware of that, but it needed to be asked nonetheless. “D-do you still like…have feelings for h-her? At all?”

            Nino snickered to himself, slightly shaking his head as he did. “She’s _all_ yours, dude.”

            “R-really?”

            Nino chuckled at Adrien’s obvious surprise, and shrugged. “Yeah…I mean– You guys have practically been turning around each other since our last year of high school or something. It was bound to happen at some point or another.” He gestured to Adrien’s food. “Are you gonna eat that.”

            “Wh…I– H-how…”

            “Dude, you’re my _best friend_ ,” Nino said. “You really think I didn’t notice? But seriously, though…are you gonna eat that or not?”

            “I– I’m confused…”

            “I mean…you haven’t touched it yet, and it’s been like twenty minutes, so I figured…”

            “ _Not_ about the food!” Adrien protested, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “If you knew how I felt about Marinette back then, why did you date her?”

            “Oh,” Nino lifted both his eyebrows in surprise, and laid back in his chair, as he let out a deep sigh. He had long gone given up on his signature red cap and glasses, Adrien noticed, trading them for contact lenses, high top fade dreadlocks and a nice beard. He wore nice form fitting jeans paired with a simple gray shirt and a light brown leather jacket. “Um…I– Ha. How do I put this? Dupain-Cheng and I broke up, because of _you_ , Adrien. _Remember_?”

            “M-me?”

            Nino chuckled. “ _Yeah_ ,” he said, drawing out a hand to point at his friend’s shoulder.

            He had grown out a few inches since high school– he looked more handsome, more relaxed too, if that last thing was even possible at this point, and Adrien couldn’t help but note the differences between the Nino he had in front of him and the one he knew from his previous life– the one he had always known as Alya Césaire’s long-term boyfriend– The one who still wore his expensive Beats around his neck and truly believed in making in through in the music industry.

            This Nino, however as nice, and understanding, and caring as he seemed to be towards Adrien… _wasn’t_ the latter’s best friend. There weren’t stars in his eyes and his teeth were too white. This Nino was an Accounting student and was working part-time in a firm that sold printing machines. He still dee-jayed, sometimes, but music was more of a hobby for him now.

            “You like basically _Chandler’d_ me, back then.” But, apparently, he was still a huge fan of _Friends_ , so that was a relief.

            “Excuse me, I did what now?”

            “Look at it this way,” Nino tried to explain. “I was Joey, right? And you, Chandler– I was dating Cathy and it was… _fine_. It was great, good, _whatever_. That’s where you come in and screw up everything. But, I guess Dupain-Cheng was already in love with you when she agreed to be my girlfriend, and it didn’t take you long to return those feelings.”

            Adrien let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry…”

            “It doesn’t matter– we never really worked, you know? Besides, it’s over. You should take it from here. Stop being so righteous and selfless already. Ask her out.”

            Immediately, flash-backs of the night before went through Adrien’s brain– reminding him about how Marinette wanted nothing to do with him, and how cold he felt when she looked at him dead in the eyes and told him to forget about her and stay out of her life. “Y-yeah, well…I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

            “For _you_ to ask out Dupain-Cheng?” Nino didn’t seem convinced. “Dude, she had a diary with _Marinette Agreste_ written all over it when we were in high school. Her room was _stocked_ with pictures of you. And now that I think about it, I _truly_ believe that she agreed to date me just so she could get closer to you.”

            “She’s not…”

            “Hey, it worked,” Nino interrupted whatever Adrien was about to say to defend her. “You _did_ fall for her. You just didn’t want to act on it because of the _Bro Code_ or some bullshit of the kind. It’s been _five_ years, Ade, and you still smile like an idiot whenever you say her name. Go for it, already. This kind of love doesn’t fade away that easily. If time and distance didn’t kill it, few things will.”

            Adrien nodded. “Well, like I said, she has _changed_.”

            “You already mentioned it,” Nino remarked. “Changed _how_? She got rid of her pigtails or something?” he joked, as he finally reached for Adrien’s sandwich. “What? It’s been sitting there for half an hour, now. I got hungry. Besides, you were _so_ not gonna eat it.” He took a bite of the food. “If anything, I’m doing you a favor.”

            “As a matter of fact, she _did_ get rid of her pigtails,” Adrien replied, joining both his hands before his face, as he watched his best friend shove half the sandwich in his mouth, getting mustard and mayo all over his beard. “Did you know about the accident?”

            “The _accident_? What accident?”

            Adrien didn’t know the best way to say it, so he figured just blurting out the news would get it over with. “The night of graduation, uh– The Dupain-Chengs were apparently among the last ones to leave.”

            Nino nodded. “Yeah, I remember Dupain-Cheng was looking all over for you.”

            “Yeah, Kagami mentioned it too… Well, maybe if she had found me, it would’ve prevented it,” he thought out loud.

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” Nino was quick to scold him.

            “How would you know?”

            “Because, whatever lie your mother raised you to believe, you are not that special, Adrien. You do not carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, alright? Now, tell me. What happened?”

            “There was a car accident. Sabine Cheng did not survive it.”

            Nino’s face went pallid then, and he had to put the sandwich down. “Oh, wow. I had no idea. I…don’t what to say. I’m so sorry to hear that.” He looked sincere.

            Nino knew Sabine, for having dated her daughter. She was – _had been_ – a very sweet woman, and he remembered how she was always kind to everyone. She liked Marc Levy novels and baking, and spending her afternoons with her daughter catching up on stupid Chinese drama on T.V. Immediately, he felt like pronouncing some thoughtful words to honor her memory, but as he scoured his brain in search of some elegant formulations, he found it extremely difficult. How did people do it, really?

            “I feel bad for learning about it just now,” he finally admitted. “How is Marinette living it?” It was the first time he used Marinette’s first name to mention her, but Adrien thought better not to comment on it.

            “Not…so great,” the latter said.

            “I can only imagine,” Nino nodded. “She and her mom were really close. How about her dad? I haven’t been to _La Mie Dorée_ in so long…! Did she talk about him?”

            “I… _saw_ him, actually. Yeah, he isn’t doing that good either.”

            “Shit, man. The Dupain-Cheng were really good people, you know? They didn’t deserve that. Shit. That _sucks_.”

            “I know.” A heavy silence hung between them for some time after that, before Adrien decided to break it. “Did Marinette tell you why she was looking for me that night? At the graduation party,” he specified, when Nino looked confused.

            “Uh…” the latter hesitated, taking a big bite out of his best friend’s sandwich. “Dude, come on, it’s been like five years. I don’t even remember what I had for lunch yesterday. I guess she wanted to give you something.”

            “What thing?”

            Nino shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know she was looking for you and almost cried when I told her she had missed you.”

            “ _Cried_?” Now, _that_ didn’t sound like the Marinette Adrien had met yesterday at all.

            “Why do you ask anyway?”

            Adrien shook his head. “N-nothing, just curious.”

            When Marinette had left him in the little alley at the back of _The Pleasure Chest_ yesterday, Adrien had run to Master Fu’s massage parlor, under the pouring rain, to beg him to help him fix his mistake. It didn’t work out, obviously, and, when he didn’t know what else to do, he just went through his contact list and called Nino to come and pick him up. He asked him if he could spend the night at his place, crash on his couch, for he didn’t feel like returning home only to be alone in his room.

            Nino had agreed, of course, and had been kind enough not to ask any questions when he saw how upset his best friend really looked.

            Adrien had sent a text to his bodyguard, informing him of the situation, and another one to his mom, so that she won’t worry too much– then, inevitably, had felt bad for not trying and bond with her more. After all, she was the main reason why he got there in the first place…

            “So…are you staying in Paris tonight, too?” Nino wondered, taking a sip of his cold coffee.

            Adrien shrugged. “I mean… If you’ll have me…”

            “Sure, yeah…no problem, dude– I haven’t seen you in like a month. I’m glad to have you here.” A pause. “So, going back to that high school fantasy of yours…are you gonna try something out with Dupain-Cheng? ‘Cause I’ll be more than happy to help if you need anything… Maybe some _tips_? You know, I used to date her…” He was teasing him, Adrien recognized the way the left corner of his mouth curled up whenever Nino felt…mischievous. “She had pretty weird kinks, too.”

            He grimaced and rolled his eyes at him, as Nino snickered openly, when a beautiful woman in a white suit and nice shiny brown hair walked into the café, and asked to be seated on the terrace.

            She ordered a white Chardonnay to pair with a dish of grilled salmon and oven-roasted asparagus– Adrien had seen this suggestion on the menu and had been tempted, but rather went with the club-sandwich that Nino ended up devouring anyway. She took out a pack of cigarettes from her bag and lighted one on, as she laid back in her chair and tried to relax.

            “Hey, _dude_ ,” Nino called at his best friend’s attention, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Stop staring. She’ll think of you as a creep or something.”

            Adrien blinked in confusion. “You don’t recognize her?”

            “I…” Nino shifted in his seat to get a better look at the woman Adrien was eyeing –not so discretely, one might add. “Are you kidding?” he said, turning back to his friend. “That was basically Michelle freaking Obama thirty-five years ago…you flatter me if you think I would know anyone _this_ cool.”

             “Dude– That’s _Alya_ ,” Adrien said. Nino crooked an eyebrow at him. “C’mon… Alya _Césaire_? She went with us at _Dupont_.” _She’s the love of your life, you should totally go to her right now_ , Adrien wanted to add but refrained himself last minute.

            “Oh, yeah…that’s uh– right. She looks…different.” _Hot_ was actually the word he was looking for, but he chose to keep this bit for himself.

            “Don’t you want to talk to her?”

            Nino scoffed. “And tell her _what_?”

            “How about ‘ _hi_ ’?”

            “We were never exactly on speaking terms, she and I. I broke up with her best friend. Shit went _bad_. We _just_ talked about it– how did you forget already?”

            Adrien pouted. “That was a gazillion years ago. I’m sure she moved on!”

            “Drop it, Adrien,” Nino sounded very defensive all of a sudden. “I’m not talking to her. Besides, she’ll probably just tell me off or something– and I don’t want to have to deal with that right now…”

            If only Adrien was listening a bit more, he would’ve known that Nino’s girlfriend of two years had just dumped him last month and was already public with her new relationship on Facebook, while he hasn’t exactly moved on yet.

            “I mean, look at her– did you see the size of her heels? I mean…we’re not exactly from the same world. That’s a classic case of _Lady and The Tramp_.”

            Adrien shrugged. “It _did_ work out for them, in the end,” he tried to sound encouraging. Nino only rolled his eyes at him. “Well, _I_ ’m gonna talk to her.”

            “Adrien!” Nino hissed. “Stop acting so childish! And _sit down_. You’re just gonna embarrass yourself. And _me_ , on the same occasion.”

            “You’ll thank me later,” Adrien assured him, as he got to his feet and walked the couple feet that separated them from Alya’s table. “Hey,” he greeted her, a little shy at first, but Alya’s smile was so bright, it washed away all kind of doubts he might have had. “Hi– uh… Alya, right? I’m uh…”

            “Adrien Agreste,” Alya nodded, still smiling. “Of course, I remember you.” He smiled back. “Your face is always all over the news; it’s a little difficult to forget about you,” she chuckled. “Besides, people always go crazy when I tell them I went to school with you. How have you been?”

            “Good, good,” he said. “Everything’s great. How about you? You look incredible, by the way.” Alya blushed at the compliment and glanced away, before she started telling him about her new job at her dad’s marketing firm. After a couple of minutes, she realized he was still standing, and immediately tried to fix her mistake by inviting him to join her. “I’m actually sitting with my friend uh– Nino. _Lahiffe_. Right over there?”

            “Oh,” she seemed a little disappointed, but made an effort to keep her smile. She had nice teeth, white, and as shiny as her hair. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go back to it…”

            “W-would you care to join us?” he suggested.

            They spoke at the same time and Alya was a bit surprised by the proposition but agreed nonetheless. “Yeah, sure.”

            She was on her feet only a few seconds after that, all her things in hand, as Adrien guided her to his and Nino’s table.

            The latter looked a bit disoriented when he saw her approach and got up straight away to look for a chair. He bumped into several tables, several times, during his search, looking all clumsy and ridiculous in the eye of other customers, but was finally able to find one for Alya, who just burst out laughing as she finally sat down.

            “So…you remember Nino, I’m sure,” Adrien introduced his best friend, who was still a bit tense considering the whole situation, but Alya was quick to reassure him.

            “Of course. And I just wanted to add, your work on the high school radio was the only reason I tuned in. I always wanted to tell you that,” she said and Nino was taken aback by the admiring comment. “Your taste in music has always been remarkable.”

            “W-wow, _thank you_ , that really means a lot to me,” was all what Nino had managed to say after that. He took a glimpse at Adrien, who waggled his eyebrows at him in a very arrogant way, and he immediately kicked him in the leg for that.

            “So, are you still in the domain?” Alya wanted to know. “I recall you wanted to become a music producer.”

            “Nino’s in accounting,” Adrien answered when his best friend didn’t. “But he still deejays on Saturday nights. His weekends are all booked until next year.” He wanted to paint Nino an exciting image, make him look interesting and draw all of Alya’s attention to him– when he glimpsed at her hands earlier, he was content to see that she wasn’t wearing any wedding or engagement ring, and hoped that was a good sign for Nino.

            “That’s very impressive,” she remarked. “Where do you play?”

            “Oh, you know…here and there–” Nino replied nervously. He was playing with a piece of napkin and avoiding eye-contact, and, just for that, his best friend wanted to end him.

            “He plays mostly at _Okay_ and _Saw_ , and he’s gonna make an appearance at the _Lavandière_ next week,” the latter specified.

            “Ouh, the _Lavandière_ , huh?” Alya sounded enthusiastic. “I hear it is very elitist.”

            “Well, I’m just the opening act– I pulled some strings to get the part,” Nino admitted.

            “Still,” Alya maintained. “Mixing at the _Lavandière_ is a huge opportunity. There are always lots of label representatives scattered in the crowd– it’s a perfect occasion to be recognized and do a bit of networking.”

            “You think so?”

            She nodded. “Of course.”

            Adrien rolled his eyes at his best friend –who was obviously incapable of taking a hint– before he said, “I’m sure Nino can get you an entry if you want.”

            “Really?” Alya’s smile only widened. “That’ll be really amazing.”

            Nino blushed, his eyes round, and he looked like he forgot how words worked. “Uh, y- _yeah_ , for sure! I think I can arrange that, ha,” he coughed out, as Adrien shot him an encouraging smile. There was a silence for a while, and Nino simply panicked. “So, hey– Adrien just ran into Marinette, yesterday. He was telling me about it,” he thought mentioning it would be a good conversation starter, but Alya stilled at the sound of her high school best friend’s name and glanced away almost instantly.

            She straightened up in her chair, looking all tense and edgy all of a sudden. “Y-yeah, I–” It was like a tsunami of bad memories had taken over her and she needed a couple of seconds to recompose herself.

            She shifted to face in Adrien’s direction. At first, he thought she was going to make a snarky comment about Marinette’s new ah… _way of life_ –how she obviously did not approve of it– but her expression softened, and she seemed sad rather than angry. “How did she look to look? Is she doing all right?” she asked in a low voice, her eyes, big, and full of unshed tears.

            Adrien didn’t want to lie– he really didn’t, for the record, but he thought he owed Alya this much at least. She deserved the good news. “She’s ah…she looks good, honestly.”

            Nino shot him a probing look– but didn’t add anything. Adrien was thankful for that. He never told his best friend about Marinette’s shady activities, didn’t think it was his place, but he had the feeling Alya knew about it and that was really what she meant when she asked him about her former best friend.

            “She’s taking her life back in hands,” he said. Alya smiled. It looked genuine, and then, the tears flowed.

            “I’m s-sorry– _Sorry_ , it’s just uh…,” she stuttered out nervously, reaching for a couple of napkins that she immediately pressed to her eyes. “I’m glad. I’m happy for her, you know?” she snorted. “She and I…we’re not exactly in a good place r-right now,” she confessed, looking back at Nino. “I’m happy she’s doing well.”

            _Right,_ Adrien thought to himself _, this world’s Marinette does like to push people away_. He was sure he heard her mention it at least last night, right before she took off.

            “Do you feel like talking about it?” Nino wondered, laying a comforting hand on Alya’s arm– the contact sent electricity all through his skin and made him shiver.

            She smiled and was about to say something when she was interrupted by the waiter, who came in with her order. “Thank you,” she said, reaching for her drink and taking a small sip. “I would love to,” she let Nino know. “Unfortunately, it’s the kind of matter people address when they’re unto their sixth or seventh date.”

            Nino blushed at the innuendo. “Oh…well, I’m looking forward to it, then,” he said, smirking, and Adrien just rolled his eyes at the pair, mouthing a big fat ‘ _I told you so_ ’ to his best friend, who just clicked his tongue at him and ignored him, to better focus his attention on Alya.

 

***

 

When Marinette woke up in the morning, she was handcuffed to her bed. She tried to pull on her arm repetitively to free it, but only managed to make enough noise to snap Luka awake.

            He was sitting by the door, his back leaning against the wall, and he was wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday. His hair was a mess and his shirt was all crumbled, and he looked like he had spent the night on the floor.

            “Hey,” he said, blinking furiously to keep himself from falling asleep again, “You’re up.” He was on his feet after that, walking towards Marinette’s bed, to sit next to her. “How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for a glass of cold water on her nightstand and handing it to her. He spoke in a quiet voice, like he always did, looking calm and unshaken, always in control of the situation, being exactly what Marinette needed him to be.

            “ _Peachy_ ,” she groaned grumpily, sitting up, and taking the water, as if she just realized how much she had been needing it. “What’s up with the handcuff?” she asked, gesturing to her limp arm. “What are you even doing here?”

            “Well, when you left yesterday, I got worried,” he admitted with a shrug, taking the empty glass from her. “I came by after my gig at the _Turquoise Nightcap_ last night to see if you were home, and if you needed anything.”

            “And you felt the need to kink it up?” she smirked, crooking an eyebrow at him.

            “They’re Juleka’s,” he said. “And it was to keep you in here.” He let out a deep sigh, before he took out a little bag of cocaine from his pants’ rear pocket. “You were clutching _this_ in your fist, when I found you. You were lying on the bathroom floor, unmoving. I thought you were _dead_.” He looked angry, and profusely disappointed. Marinette glanced away in shame. “You told me you were clean.”

            “Well, guess I’m not anymore, then,” she mumbled lowly. Her lips were so dry they cracked when she spoke and her skin itched everywhere. Her head was so heavy, she eventually had to lay down again.

            “Why, what happened?” Luka wanted to know, the anger in his eyes slowly morphing into worry, as he drew out a hand to lie on her shoulder.

            Marinette glanced at it. “I don’t know,” she confessed. People relapsed.

            People lived through Hell, and when they couldn’t handle the burning ache in their bones anymore, they turned to brown sugar, yellow sunshines, and stardust to help cope with the pain.

            At first, it was easy, it was nice…they were in control. Numbness made the screams go quiet and the bloody images go dry. It was a dangerous alternative, but the voice of temptation was soft and compassionate. It was all they had, and they needed this semblance of stability.

            Then, inevitably, miracles turned to nightmares and horror stories.

            “I think I do,” Luka whispered, as he lifted the hand that was on her shoulder and reached for her face. “It was that Adrien-guy, wasn’t it? He brought you right back to it.” He rearranged some of her hair behind her ear, and smiled. Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m getting rid of that, by the way,” he gestured to the bag of cocaine he had in hand.

            Her eyes bulged out in surprise and she hurried to a sitting position to try and grab the drug from him, but he was quicker and smarter, because he got up instantly, and she was still handcuffed to the bed. “Luka, you _cannot_ do that to me,” she pleaded, violently tugging on her arm, but the shackles stayed put. “I got in trouble for it, you know.”

            “Exactly. If I flush them out right now, it would be like you never had them,” he snickered. “We’d get rid of all evidence.”

            “Luka, I need it, okay?” she bargained. “Please, don’t do that!”

            “You haven’t needed them for three whole months, and you definitely don’t need them now,” he countered before he walked out the door and headed for the bathroom.

            “Luka, I swear to God–” Marinette started, still pulling on her arm, but was interrupted by the flush of the toilet. When Luka was back, she frowned at him. “Jerk.”

            He shrugged. “You’ve called me worse.”

            “Whatever,” she spat. She tugged on her hand once again. “Well, now, you have no reason to keep me _sequestrated_ anymore, so get these off me,” she ordered him in a strong, severe voice.

            He shook his head, folding his arms together. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’m not taking any risks,” he said, looking very serious all of a sudden. “You will stay here for the next thirty-six hours, and that’s final.”

            Marinette pursed her lips together, pouting. “Well, I have to pee,” she challenged him, eyes bright.

            Luka scoffed, before he headed to the end of her bed and picked up a little red bucket that he tossed in her direction. “Here, use this. You can use it for any…uh _discharges_ … And, truly, zero judgments. I’m not letting you out of these handcuffs, though, Marinette.”

            “Are you fucking serious right now?” Marinette sounded outraged, but she took the basin nonetheless. Luka shrugged, and smiled a little, as he tried his best not to look too complacent about the whole situation. “Well? What are you still doing here, you perv’? Get out!”

            Luka let out a small, crafty chuckled, raising both his hand, as he started to move towards the door. “It’s like you said, really,” he told her, smirking, “it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He winked at her, and Marinette blushed. “Anyway,” he sighed, shoving both hands in his pockets, “I’ll uh…I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

            “The only reason I’m not hitting you with that is because you have the keys to these horrors,” she reminded him, and he just snorted and left.

            Now, for the record, Marinette would’ve never used Luka’s bucket– she just waited for him to close the door behind him before she threw it away actually, and began looking for a hairpin she knew she had somewhere in her nightstands drawers.

            Marinette _had_ seen lots of movies –she still remembered every afternoon she had spent with her mother swooning before gorgeous Asian specimen starring in ridiculous and overly dramatic Chinese soap operas. It besides was partly the reason why she always made it a priority to pay her cable bills in time. Her heart twitched at the memory– so, _theoretically_ , Marinette knew how to pick a lock. I mean, it couldn’t be that difficult…all you had to do was insert the pin the lock, juggle it around, and pay attention to the clicks that came out, until you heard the right one and the bolt just popped open. _Tire sur la chevillette et la bobinette cherra_ , right?

            Eventually, after what felt like twenty hours of struggling, Marinette was finally able to get the handcuff off. She got out of bed, then out of the room, careful not to make any sound as she tiptoed to the bathroom and made it to the fire escape. Easy, quick, done– Her blood was pounding loudly in her ears and she could taste the adrenaline in her mouth while she passed a leg across the window and held on to the rusty ramparts as she walked down the stairs. It wasn’t her first time exiting the building that way– she used them frequently in fact, each time she had to go out without running into her landlord.

            “Oh! Hey, Marine– is that you? What are you doing here?” Marinette recognized her neighbor’s voice, Imogen Rollinde, an old widow who rented the apartment below her and regularly complained about noise nuisance. “Are you avoiding Pierre again?”

            Rollinde was wearing a pink dressing gown and huge hair curlers on her head, while she stood on her 50 feet square balcony, idly sipping on her tea and watching the seagulls in the sky. Marinette didn’t exactly have time to spare her, and, besides, she very much disliked the woman, so she didn’t really make an effort to appear nice. She ignored her, purely and simply, as she continued to go down the stairs and landed in the building’s interior courtyard.

            Certain tenants were allowed to park here– that was how she discovered the building’s back entrance, leading right to its garage…where Luka was already waiting for her.

            She was about to turn around and run the other way, pretend she never saw him, pretend she was never there, but Luka wasn’t one to forgive dishonesty that easily. “You really thought I would’ve just let you… _go_?” he asked, folding his arms together, as he laid his back against a gray wall. He didn’t look all that angry– _amused_ , maybe.

            Marinette’s shoulders dropped. She pouted. “Yeah…” she admitted.

            Luka rolled her eyes at her. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

            She didn’t move. “Are you gonna handcuff me again?”

            He shook his head and shrugged. “Not if you behave.”

            Marinette scoffed at the remark and shoved her hands in her pockets– As Luka came to notice over the years, it was sometimes better to just overlook her…attitude. Marinette was like a giant baby throwing tantrums. If you ignore their bad-tempered tears long enough, they were ought to stop crying. However, as he began to head down toward the building’s main entrance, Luka realized that she was still not following after him– Even though she often acted like one, Marinette wasn’t a child, because she didn’t depend on him, and wasn’t afraid to see him walk away. Or so, she claimed.

            “What is it?” he wondered, sighing deeply.

            “I’m hungry.”

            “We’ll order something, then,” he suggested.

            She snorted. “Wow…how _incredibly_ cheap of you,” she laid her hands on her hips, smirking.

            One main aspect of Marinette’s personality is that she was incredibly stubborn –a curse and a blessing– and Luka immediately decided he had no intentions of dealing with it, as went up to her and passed one arm around her knees before he threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the elevator. She tried to wiggle out of his grip, of course, and threatened to scream to alert the neighbors multiple times, but he held her strongly and disregarded her hot warnings.

            Once they were back in the apartment, he sat her down on the couch and turned on the T.V. to distract her while he went online to order a pizza– he paid for it, not surprisingly, after Marinette shot him a dirty look when the food arrived.

            “It’s just that…it doesn’t make any sense…” Luka stated plainly, shaking his head, as he took a big sip of his beer and rested his feet on Marinette’s coffee table.

            The latter burst out laughing. “What is it that you don’t get?” she asked, shoving the rest of her pizza in her mouth before wiping off her greasy hands in a tissue, and laid back between the couch’s cushions, her own bottle in hands. “I mean…it makes perfect sense. Xinji is in love with Mei, but Huan Zan doesn’t want to let him marry her.”

            They were watching a re-diffusion of _Ju Hua Cha_ (literally translated to Chrysanthemum Tea) as they ate, because it had been the only way to get Marinette to settle– she knew all two hundred and forty-seven episodes by heart for having seen them with her mom a countless number of times over the years, but it was still her favorite Chinese soap opera. It was a story about revenge, forbidden love, and family honor, set twenty years ago in a small Chinese village, next to Hebei– Marinette had never actually been there, but trusted Sabine when the latter told her how beautifully well the province’s green landscapes were depicted.

            “Other the fact that I find it incredibly stupid that _what’s-his-face_ has all the power in this family, among which that to decide of the fate of his granddaughter–”

            “Huan Zan,” Marinette interrupted him.

            “ _What_?”

            “His name. It’s Huan Zan.”

            Luka let out a long, deep sigh, and scowled at her. “Whatever,” he said, taking his time to pronounce each syllable.

            “He’s the Cheung family’s patriarch!” Marinette let out in a loud giggle. “You _need_ to know his name at least. And,  _of course_ , he gets to decide! He gets to decide _everything_. Nothing gets done without getting Huan Zan’s approval first and foremost. It’s his role as head of the house.”

            “Well, it’s stupid,” Luka fussed, thrusting the tip of his bottle between his lips.

            “It’s _not_ stupid,” Marinette argued. “It’s just an _old-school_ way of ah…thinking. That’s what tradition is all about.”

            “Well, tradition is _stupid_ ,” Luka maintained. “And Chin-Chang doesn’t love Mei, if he’s still willing to go through with his crazy grandmother’s petty revenge plan,” he added.

            “ _Xinji_.”

            “Yeah…that’s definitely what I said,” Luka chuckled.

            Marinette only rolled her eyes at him, as she proceeded to place her head against his shoulder, making him go still instantly. She didn’t seem to notice. She took in a deep breath, before she said, “Jia Ji is _not_ petty. She wants to destroy Huan Zan for what he did to her son and daughter-in-law forty-seven years ago.”

            His skin was flushed and his tongue all tied-up, but Luka pushed the words out nonetheless. “Well, why doesn’t she destroy _him_ , then?” He tried to sound natural. “Why is she even going after Mei? It’s not like she ever did anything wrong. She’s completely innocent. Besides, _Scarface_ doesn’t give two damns about his granddaughters. He treats Wei like shit– I mean, that’s basically the whole reason he pretended to having heard Chin-Chang say her name instead of Mei’s, when the poor dude told him he wanted to marry her. He wants to get rid of Wei because he thinks she’s just a bastard.”

            Marinette shrugged. “Well, Wei _is_ Tu Hai Zan and Shufen Wen’s lovechild. She was left at the door of the Cheung’s household with nothing else but a blanket and a stupid letter claiming Tu Hai was her father and that her mother is dead. Besides, there was never any proof of that and Tu Hai was already married by then– to Chen Na…who Huan Zan loved and respected deeply. Wei brought dishonor to the Cheung family and–”

            “ _Not_ intentionally,” Luka reminded her, swiftly cutting her off. “And she always goes out of her way to please her grandfather. He just doesn’t care because he’s such a giant dickhead.”

            Marinette nudged him in the arm, falsely outraged, before she laughed out loud again. “He _does_ care!” she maintained, and Luka felt her moving next to him, and tried his best not to show his sudden edginess. “He just… He can’t admit it out loud,” she said, a bit more calm, as she sipped on her beer. “If he really didn’t care about her, he wouldn’t have insisted so much on her marrying Xinji in the first place– he doesn’t want to get rid of her. He just thinks she’s a better fit because she’s more compliant than Mei and he knows Xinji’s family is rich and extremely influential. He doesn’t need Mei’s affinities for drama to put his family name to shame, especially after the whole Shufen Wen scandal. Besides, he knows Xinji only wants Mei because she’s prettier.”

            “ _Please_ … they look the same,” Luka scoffed.

            “How dare you!” Marinette straightened up immediately, trying to look as serious as possible, but she couldn’t hide long how hard she was biting the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from exploding in a guffaw. “We don’t all look alike.”

            Luka lifted both his eyebrows at her and made an effort as well to keep a straight face. “That’s–that’s not what I said.”

            “It was implied though,” she remarked, smirking a bit.

            Luka just smiled. “Well, I didn’t mean it that way,” he said. “So, sorry if it came out wrong.”

            Marinette sighed and put her head back on Luka’s shoulder. “Whatever.”

            “What do you see in all this nonsense anyway?” he asked. He figured if he kept the conversation going, he would soon forget their oh-so-dangerous proximity. “It’s all blackmail and tears and betrayal…everything is very _highly_ exaggerated…” She snorted at the comment. “Everyone is always so sneaky a-and just _wicked_ all the time… I mean, aren’t you tired of all this drama and this madness? All these attempted suicides, all this manipulation, these murders, these affairs… Plus, all the people that end up in the hospital mysteriously wake up with retrograde amnesia… It’s not that common, you know– Same thing with the evil twin trope. The stories are just constantly repeating themselves, aren’t they?”

            Marinette took the time to answer the question properly. “I like it because I know it isn’t real…” She sounded so genuine all of a sudden, Luka had to put down his beer and reached for the remote to mute the T.V. She shifted in her seat to face him– she didn’t look like she was about to laugh anymore. “I like it because it only takes a couple of episodes for Yawen Chun, who just saw her lover burn up with the grange, to get over it,” she said. “Deaths are never the end. They’re not even definitive. And the characters…they never stay ah…broken. They always manage to pick themselves back up and deal with life. All they need is a motivational pep-talk and a tiny script alteration,” she let out an empty chuckle, as a couple of tears ran through her cheeks.

            Luka didn’t laugh at the joke– he didn’t even smile. He just looked at Marinette and hated himself for making her feel this way. “You’re not _broken_ , Mar… You’re just…finding your way back.”

            “That’s just a way to sugarcoat it,” she snickered. “It’s fine. You can say it. I’m an addict. I mean…that’s why you’re still here, right? You’re afraid I’m gonna relapse again. I can’t really blame you. _I_ ’m afraid I’m gonna relapse too. _All the time_.”

            “I’m not sugarcoating it,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. The contact startled her a bit, but she was quick to recompose herself. “Marinette, _this_ ,” he said, gesturing to the mess that reigned over the living room and the many empty liquor bottle that lined up the bookshelf, “does not define what you are.”

            He was so sure of himself then, Marinette almost wanted to believe him. She enlaced their fingers together in such a gentle way, it sent a thousand butterflies spiraling in Luka’s stomach. “And how, exactly, would you define me?”

            She scooted closer to him and waited to see his reaction. He didn’t jerk away– he leaned in, even, and she thought her brains were gonna pop. “You’re a fighter,” was the first adjective he chose to describe her. She was a bit surprised by it, but let him go on. “Even though, you’re not done fighting yet. You fight for others, rarely for yourself, but that’s only because you have this insatiable _need_ to protect everyone around you– Even if it means pushing them away.” Marinette’s eyes were shining with tears and her upper lip was trembling, but she was trying not to cry. “You are fierce, a-and–and clever… and so _brave_. You can get through anything… I know you can. I mean, you went through Hell, and back, and you’re still standing, and walking this Earth like the world is your _bitch_. You’re fucking beautiful, Marinette… _of course_ I’m still in love with you.”

            “How do you always know what to say, and when to say it?” she whispered.

            He smiled and reached for her cheek, brushing her skin softly, as he got even closer. She glanced at his mouth once, then back to his eyes, so blue and deep and dark, and her lips parted intuitively. He kissed her then, at first, approaching her carefully, before he let his body take over, blinded by Marinette’s touch and Marinette’s scent, and Marinette’s sounds.

            Her hands felt like fire plates as they snaked across his chest, urging him to take his shirt off, and he couldn’t but obey the young woman’s silent order, as she slowly got up, dragging him along the hallways, to her bedroom.

            Something reasonable inside his head tried and stopped him from going any further, but its voice was too weak and its pleas were covered when he and Marinette crashed into the latter’s bed in a huge thud.

            They made out for what seemed like hours, and all Luka could think of was his heart, which was about to burst inside his chest, and his flesh, so hot it was beginning to peel off before Marinette did the unthinkable and handcuffed him to her bed.

            “W-what are you d-doing?” he barely managed to spit out, immediately beginning to tug on his arm to try and set it free, but as Marinette had come to find out before him, it was no use. The shackles held. “Marinette? What the Hell?” he asked again, more pressing this time, slowly waking up from his gaze, as the young woman began to pull away.

            “Don’t worry,” she said, getting up and readjusting her clothes. “I won’t be gone for long.”

            “Where are you going?” he dared to ask, realizing with horror that his pants, and, by extension, the keys to Juleka’s handcuffs, were on the other side of the room.

            “Just for a walk– I’ll be back soon,” she assured him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before exiting the place, her mad laugh echoing around the apartment until he heard the main door slam shut behind her.


	5. Homeostasis

The _Yellow_ _Eel Grill_ wasn’t exactly the nicest place to hang out at. It was crowded and dark, and smelled of despair and lousy villains. The tables were dusty, and the clientele was loud. It was a biker bar full of people with big muscles and worn-out leather jackets, who played pool and darts while sipping on warm cheap beer, and fought with each other occasionally.

            The floor was sticky under Marinette’s new pair of sandals, as she made her way to the bar and took a seat on a stool. A couple of men gave her a dirty look, and everyone wondered what a pretty little thing like her was doing here of all places, where beer cups were the size of her skull.

            “What are you having?” the barman asked her, passing by the tattooed mountain that has been waiting by the cashier for a good fifteen minutes now.

            Marinette didn’t even look at him. “I’m waiting for Kan.”

            The barman –according to the tag he was wearing, his name was Sidoine– just laughed at her face, making some other guys around them, and close enough to hear their conversation, laugh as well. Marinette didn’t budge. “Kid Mime’s not working, today.”

            She stared up at him, her blue eyes, piercing him like machine guns. “Then, call him. And tell him to get here quick. It’s important.”

            “Do I look like a freaking secretary to you?” Sidoine scoffed.

            Marinette crooked an eyebrow at him. “Well, could’ve fooled me with all that makeup you’re wearing and the cute little pink thong that’s poking out from under your pants. Also, has no one ever told you that rolling up your collar made you look like a freaking puppy murderer?” she ridiculed him in front of his clients. “Tell him to get his ass down here,” she ordered him, when he didn’t argue back.

            Sidoine just looked at her, his face was blank, but Marinette held his gaze, and watched him turn around and grab the bar’s phone line. He dialed Kan’s number in front of her and told him to come– the latter refused at first, of course, but changed his mind immediately at the mention of Marinette’s name and announced that he was on his way.

            “Thank you,” Marinette said to Sidoine, and didn’t miss the surprise in his eyes.

            “What do you even want from him, anyway? What’d he do?”

            Marinette shrugged. “I’ll have the usual.”

            Sidoine scoffed and shook his head, but did not insist and got to work. He poured equal amounts of peach schnapps and cranberry juice in a shaker, added a couple of ice cubes, before he emptied the remaining of an old bottle of Jägermeister that laid on one of the shelves behind him. He mixed the beverage, as he took other orders, before he placed the cocktail in front of Marinette. “How do you even have blue eyes, anyway?” he asked, cracking open four bottles of local beer for a guy with a red bandana who was staying next to the window with his group of friends. “I mean…you’re Asian, right? You’re like from China or whatever. How do you have blue eyes? Are you wearing lenses or something?”

            Marinette took a sip of her drink. She tried to ignore him, she really did, but just the sight of him annoyed her. “I was born here. I’m just as much entitled to my French citizenship as you are, so back off.”

            “Don’t make me look like a big fat racist just because I asked a question.” Marinette rolled his eyes at him. “It’s just a question.”

            She let out a deep sigh. “I’m half-Chinese half-Mongolian on my mother’s side, and my dad’s from German descent. Besides, Asians with blue eyes are not that uncommon,” she said calmly, but one could see all the anger she tried to contain on her face. She got up, clutching to her drink, as she began to walk toward an empty table next to the doors.

            She sat down and waited for Kan. Marinette wasn’t sure what she was going to say to him– she just knew she needed to fix everything that went wrong last night. There was a big shipment coming, and Kan knew all about it. He was her only way in, she was perfectly aware of that. And she needed him to trust her again.

            Marinette and Kan met a few years ago in the waiting room of a rehabilitation clinic, some years after her accident. She was seeing the Dr. Odzierejko twice a week for her hands, and he always said that she was doing immense progress, and Kan was just a guy in a reception room, staring at white walls and reading expired magazines, as he waited for his sister to get out of her doctor’s appointment.

            Her name was Celeste, and she was in a wheelchair. She suffered from something called cerebral palsy, Kan had once told her, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked. It was something that someone was diagnosed early on. Well, that was the story he told her, anyway. She was older than Kan– she was twenty-five, Marinette remembered, even if she looked younger. A pretty little thing with blond hair and brown eyes, and she knew Kan cared deeply about her.

            Marinette and Celeste were treated by the same doctor; that was how Marinette and Kan’s friendship started. She liked talking to Kan. He was nice, he made her laugh, and God knew how much she needed to laugh after what she had been through. They exchanged numbers– he would send her funny pictures from time to time, ask how she was doing, but they never talked about anything serious. Kan was her escape; she needed him to get her mind off the horrible things that she had gone through.

            Then, one time, Kan and Celeste just…stopped showing up. She tried to ask the nurses about it, but they wouldn’t say anything, and when she asked the Dr. Odzierejko, he told her that Celeste was dead. She didn’t ask how she died– she just assumed it was because of her condition. She called Kan that day, right after she was done with Odzierejko. They never called each other– she suspected that was the reason why he picked up immediately. He was worried when he answered, but seemed to relax when she told she was calling to make sure he was alright. He avoided the question, and lied too, so she invited him to lunch. Shortly after their little date, Marinette had started to bring him food to his apartment, even though he made it pretty clear that he didn’t need her to look after him– that he was an adult, that he could take care of himself. Her friends and family didn’t like him, didn’t like it when she went to his house, but she was stubborn, and she wanted to help him. He never let her into his apartment.

            He snapped at her, once, and screamed at her to get lost. She knew he didn’t mean it; that he was just upset and saying things to keep her away. She didn’t leave. And that was her mistake. That was how she got stuck.

            Girl meets Boy, girl falls in love, but Boy is implicated with a drug cartel. Girl has a secret, too– she uses her relationship with Boy to infiltrate the cartel. But even popos make mistakes. Now, Girl had spent the last three months in remission and was working hard to fix everything that she has done, but the ghosts of her past have been hunting her down, and last night, she had let the nightmares get to her.

            “I gotta admit you’ve got balls– Asking to see me, after what happened yesterday,” she recognized Kan’s voice, as she lifted her face to look at him. He was standing in front of her, wearing a simple blue-jean and a white t-shirt, and he was smirking at her.

            She shyly glanced away, blushing lightly. “Shut up and hear me out.”

            Kan shook his head. “You screwed up, Red. _Again_. You keep screwing up. Why should I even listen to anything you have to say, anymore?” She didn’t answer, and bit her lip to keep the tears from flowing. “You went to the cops,” he accused her– she seemed startled by it. He was speaking in a low voice, calm, unshaken, as he took place on the empty chair before her. “Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “You thought you were being smart, and covering your traces, but… I know you. And Freddie might believe you– that your father knows the deputy police chief and whatnot, but no one gets off that easily after being charged with drug possession with intent to distribute.” He paused. “You cut a deal. Last night just confirmed it.” She blinked in confusion. “They want an outside witness to strengthen their case. That’s why you had Blondie with you, ain’t that right?”

            “Kan…it’s not what–”

            “I don’t blame you,” Kan immediately interrupted her. “I want out, too.”

            “Then, come and talk to them with me,” Marinette fell right into Kan’s trap. “You can’t keep doing this, Kan. We can help each other.”

            He scoffed. “Marinette, you’re an idiot. You’re an idiot for trusting the cops, and you’re an idiot for trusting _me_.” He looked at her, his cold blue-green eyes were striking and beautiful, but he looked annoyed. “They’re gonna kill you for that. They’ve killed people for less.”

            “Kan, _please_ …”

            “I can’t help you, Marinette…you got into this mess by yourself, and I won’t help you clean it up.” He moved to get up, but she caught his sleeve and made him sit back. “I don’t owe you anything. I told you to back off, and you didn’t listen. You were stubborn. You did it to yourself, Red.”

            “I m-made a mistake…”

            “The only mistake you made was to think that I was redeemable. Look where it got you,” he chuckled emptily. She looked down. “I won’t say anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” he assured her. “All I’m saying is that if I was able to find out about it, it won’t be long before someone else connects the dots. So whatever deal you worked out, I really hope it’s worth it.”

            She nodded. “I’m getting full immunity and all charges dropped,” she confessed. “I’m getting my life back.”

            “Lucky,” he snorted, looking down. “But then again, you always were.”

            “You can get your life back, too. There _is_ a way out, Kan,” she tried to convince him, as she reached for his hand and squeezed gently.

            He peered up at her through his dark bangs, but she couldn’t read any emotion on his face. “You’re bad news, Red,” he said, as he finally got to his feet.

            “I still think you are redeemable,” she called after him, as he was beginning to walk away, and she got up as well, almost knocking over her chair.

            “Then, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he mocked her.

            “You’re a good person,” she carried on, placing both her hands on the table. “And you can get out of this– y-you can _start_ over. Please, at least consider it.”

            Kan let out a deep sigh. “What do you want?”

            “The Montrose shipment next month…what do you know about it?”

            “I can’t help you with that,” he asserted. “I don’t know anything.”

            “Help me find out about it, then.”

            “You’re an idiot if you think you could get away with it,” he told her. “You’re done the minute they even suspect you of snooping around.”

            “I won’t get caught.”

            “You sound awfully sure about that. Why?”

            “Just trust me.”

            “I can’t. You’re a liar. I can’t trust anything that comes out of your filthy mouth.”

            “You used to trust me.”

            He shook his head, turned around, and walked away, toward the bar’s doors, but Marinette caught up to him, and didn’t let him leave. “You were only thinking about yourself when you took that deal, and nothing tells me that you weren’t gonna leave me to rot in jail,” he hissed at her, looking really angry, and Marinette could see hot tears shining on his cheeks.

            “I care about you,” she said. “I was never going to let you rot in jail.”

            “Even after everything I did to you?”

            She shrugged. “You still come right away whenever I call you, or when you think that I need you.” He didn’t answer anything to that. “Make a deal with the police. Tell them everything you know. They’ll let you walk free,” she insisted again, and, at last, it all clicked in Kan’s head.

            “You’re the _mole_ ,” he said, his eyes, round with fear, and rage, and hurt. “There was never any stupid undercover, was there? _You_ were the undercover. And you’ve been lying all along.” Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but she wasn’t able to say anything. She closed her eyes and breathed in, before Kan pursued, “you used to love me.” He dropped the words on her like five little grenades, and watched, as her whole expression fell. “But I don’t think it was ever true to begin with.”

            “Of course it was true, Kan,” she tried to sound convincing, but he brushed her off.

            “You’re disgusting.”

            “Kan…”

            “I _love_ you, _okay_?” he finally snapped at her, and the whole bar just turned their way to look at them. Kan didn’t care the slightest. “That’s why I’m always there when you call, and I always show up when you need me. That’s why I haven’t taken out my cell yet and called someone to tell them all about you.” He paused. He was still fighting off his tears, but it didn’t keep him from crying. They rolled on his face, burning hot, and Marinette couldn’t even look at him. “I’m not gonna say anything, but _please_ , if you care about me at all, like you pretend you do, get your boss to drop this case. You can’t win against them. Look at what they’ve done to you, already. They got you _addicted_. How many people have you lost because of all of this?” He paused. “I know you stole the cocaine. I took the blame, so you don’t need to worry about it. I didn’t tell them about your boyfriend, either. You just need let the whole thing go, and I’ll make them forget about you, too.”

            “I did it to myself, as you so clearly pointed out. But I’m better, now. And it’ll be hard to go back to normal, after that, I’ll admit to that. But I’m not giving up, Kan,” she said, her face, completely blank. “I need you to tell me everything you know about the Montrose shipment.”

            He scoffed. “You even talk like a cop.”

            “I know they’re the ones who killed Celeste.”

            And just like that, the world stopped spinning, and Kan and Marinette were alone in that bar. “You fucking bitch,” he insulted her, turning his hands into fists to keep them from trembling. She knew he didn’t mean it, but still, it hurt, to see him like that.

            “Kan, look at me.” He did. “They’re gonna pay for what they did, I promise. But you need to help me.” She lifted a hand to rest on his cheek and rubbed her thumb against his temple. “Please.”

            “I didn’t lie. I don’t know anything,” he said. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to see if I’m telling the truth,” he made her move away her hand. “I am. I don’t know anything.”

            “Who does then?”

            “Are you really a cop?” he wondered. “You’re barely twenty-two. Or are you lying about your age, as well?”

            “They don’t usually do that, but they took a chance on me.”

            “Why?”

            “I had just graduated from the Academy when I met you,” she said, folding her arms together. “That’s when my life went down the gutter, by the way. Roger was able to turn it around.”

            “All that because he went to school with your father,” Kan snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

            Marinette shrugged. “Then, don’t. I’ve given two years of my life for this operation. I’m not giving up, and I’ll put you out if I have to.”

            “You can’t arrest me,” Kan remarked. “You’ll blow up your cover.” Marinette didn’t reply. “This Saturday, 10 o’clock. They’re meeting with some big shot– I know it’s important, because Lavinia has been prepping me all week.”

            “Where?”

            “At the _Lavandière_ ,” he said. “Dress sexy. Seb could never resist the charms of a beautiful woman. Wear blue, it suits you. Makes you look innocent and vulnerable. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to get in.”

            She nodded. “Thank you.”

            “I tell you this, you make sure I don’t go to jail. Or I _will_ kill you,” he threatened her between his teeth. Marinette tried to keep a straight face, but she knew Kan could read the fear in her eyes. “Oh, would you look at that!” he exclaimed suddenly, as he turned toward the three people that had just walked into the bar. “Looks like your boyfriend’s here,” he whispered, giggling like a maniac.

            She turned around and saw Adrien, his blond and perfect hair tied back, nervously looking around, until he saw her, with Kan, and froze. He was with his best friend Nino, whom Marinette hadn’t seen in a long time, and Alya Césaire, who had absolutely nothing to do in here.

            “You have got to be kidding me,” Marinette grumbled under her breath, as he felt Kan’s hand close around her waist and bring her closer to him.

            “Or I could just kill _him_. I don’t care for him at all,” he reminded her, kissing her neck, before he just left her there and left the bar.

            Adrien shifted toward her but Marinette only rolled her eyes at him, and the others, as she walked to the bar, to Sidoine, to order him another drink.

            “Is that why he calls you Red? Because that’s the only thing you drink?” the latter asked.

            Marinette ignored him again and almost barked at him to leave her alone. “What the Hell are you doing here?” she asked Adrien, before he was able to even speak, as she spun on her heels to face him, her red cocktail in hand, but all she could see was Alya, the sad look on her face, and the fact that she was standing in front of her, shy and stupid, and unable to make the first move. “I thought I told you I didn’t want anything to do with you,” she said, but it was unclear who she was talking to.

            “I-I’m sorry…” Adrien was quick to apologize. “I didn’t think I’d find you in here.”

            “You followed me here,” Marinette knew this already. “So, what do you want?” She was still looking at Alya.

            Against all odds, it was the latter who spoke this time. “I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Y-you never return my c-calls and…”

            “I’m okay,” Marinette interrupted her. “I’m perfect. You really don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. Now, if you don’t mind…” she said, nodding at each of them to try and appear polite, before Sidoine decided he wanted to ruin the moment.

            “We don’t get many pretty ladies in this bar,” he whistled at Alya’s attention, grossly smiling at her. “What can I get you, _sweetheart_? On the house, naturally. Of course, if you feel like you need to repay me in any other way…”

            Marinette didn’t let him finish, before she poured the content of her glass on his head. “As inconceivable as it might seem, I don’t think she’s all that interested,” she scolded him. “Get back to work, Sidoine, or I’ll make Kan fire you.”

            Sidoine let out an empty giggle, winking at Marinette. “Don’t worry, honey. You’re still my favorite. She ain’t got nothing on you.”

            “Get back to work, Sidoine,” she repeated. “Or I’ll break your arm.”

            He scoffed. “You got money to pay for your drinks?”

            “Put it on Kan. I’m leaving.”

            “What about your friends?”

            “They’re grown-ass adults. They can take care of themselves.”

 

 

“Marinette, wait!” It was Adrien’s voice calling after her, soon after she escaped through the grill’s backdoor to have some piece.

            She didn’t turn around, and kept walking, but Adrien caught up to her and moved to stand before her. “You need to stop coming after me,” she hissed at him.

            “Sorry. I just– I didn’t know what to do. I needed to talk to you.”

            “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

            “Then just listen to what I have to say, _please_.”

            She took a deep breath, and Adrien really thought she was gonna hear him out, but she just looked at him with white anger and blind hate in her eyes, when she said, “You are just like a cockroach. You keep coming back where you’re not wanted. I could file a restraining order against y–”

            “I could get you into the _Lavandière_ ,” he didn’t let her finish. He could see the suggestion interested her, because she was just about to speak, but closed her mouth and finally decided against it, probably thinking well about her next words. She sighed. “I heard you with your…ah, _colleague_. I know a way you could get in.”

            “What do you want?” She cut to the chase, bluntly. Adrien would lie if he said it didn’t impress him.

            “I want to help.”

            “I don’t need your help.”

            “You need my help to get into the club,” he reminded her.

            “I’m over you, Adrien, alright?” she snapped at him. “Stop trying to be a part of my life.”

            She was about to walk away again, when Adrien caught at her sleeve and made her face her. “You wanted to call her _Emma_ ,” he said to her, and could watch her face as the words simply unraveled her.

            “What did you just say to me?” she almost screamed at him. He didn’t respond. “How do you, a guy I have never spoken to in my _life_ , know how I wanted to name my hypothetical baby girl? _Answer_ me!”

            “Because I wasn’t born in this world,” the words slid on Adrien's tongue, as he pushed them through the trembling seam of his lips. He didn’t dare to cross her gaze and looked down, staring at the cold gray ground, as he spoke. “I come from a world where you and I were in love, and where we almost… _had_ a baby. You said that if she happened to be a girl, you wanted to call her Emma.” He whispered the name as he cried, and Marinette was glaring at him with disgust and anger, and a little bit of fear.

            “You need to get yourself checked in in a mental institution, Adrien,” she spat at him. “Because that’s _all_ in your _head_. So get the hell away from me, or I call the cops, and it’ll get ugly.” She paused. “I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you to get into the _Lavandière_. So go to the closest hospital and make some doctors check your brain. You’re acting like you’re delusional. That, or you’re on drugs– I know how the last one feels. Either way, it’s _you_ that needs the help.”

            “Marinette, please…”

            “Leave me alone,” she immediately interrupted him. “Leave me alone, you _sick_ fuck.”

 

***

 

The sound of keys turning in the door lock managed to wake Luka up, but he didn’t say anything until he saw Marinette walk into the bedroom. He was still tied to the bed, so he wasn’t able to move or get to her, even though she looked awful, as if years of pain and distress had just been dropped over her shoulders.

            She didn’t speak –she looked she would cry if she did– and picked up Luka’s pants from the floor to search for the handcuffs’ key, before she walked back to him.

            “Will you leave if I let you go?” she asked in a weak voice, and Luka really wanted to tell her off, but couldn’t. Instead, he just shook his head and waited for her to untie him.

            She stood there, for a minute maybe, but he didn’t get up, and she could finally breathe. She got rid of her pants and joined him in bed, carefully wrapping her arms around him, as she rested her head on his chest. She listened for his heartbeats for a while, set on the idea of just lying here, in his embrace, and try to forget everything she had just gone through.

            “Why are you crying?” he wondered, softly stroking her hair, as he felt her tears against his skin.

            “Because I lied,” she admitted.

            “About, what?”

            “About everything.”

            “Care to go on?”

            “I was never really fired from the department,” she said lowly, hiding her face between the covers.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Igor… he’s Sabrina’s brother, you know that, right?” Luka nodded, but he still didn’t know what she was talking about. “He’s my cover. I use our weekly sessions to give Sabrina updates about a case I’ve been working on for the past two years.”

            “What case?”

            “I can’t tell you that.”

            “Are you on something again?”

            Marinette chuckled. “No.” She shook her head. “You can ask Sabrina if you don’t believe me.”

            “Sabrina’s fucked up all over. I won’t believe her either– I mean, her dad put Igor’s father in jail. You can’t be raised by someone like this, and _not_ be fucked up.”

            “Igor’s father was a criminal. And Roger got the D.A. to lessen his sentence. He only did a couple of years, so don’t turn this on him.”

            “Or he wasn’t, and Roger only did that to punish his wife’s lover.”

            “He was wanted for identity theft, _robbery_ , and fraud,” Marinette countered him. “He was facing a life-sentence– he made a deal to sell out his partners and was lucky to get ten years. But he didn’t see it that way, and went after Sarah to mess with Roger.”

            “Wow, you know some big words,” Luka sounded impressed. “Maybe you’re a cop, after all.” He paused. “So, what? You went undercover all this time?”

            “Yeah…”

            “You expect me to believe that? I _saw_ you, Marinette,” he reminded her. “I was there, every step of the way. You weren’t _good_ – You couldn’t have been faking it.”

            “I wasn’t,” she revealed. “They got to my head.” She paused. “But I’m better, now, I swear. And I want to get better.” She hissed herself up on her elbow to look at him. “You were right…about last night. About _why_ it happened but…” she shook her head, “Adrien is just a fantasy. He doesn’t mean anything to me. I just had to deal with a hell lot of e-emotions, yesterday and…I did it the only way I knew how to. But I _swear_ that it’s not gonna happen again.”

            "What about Tina?"

            Marinette seemed confused. "What about her?"

            "You've  _harassing_ her for the past few months.  _You_ told me. That's not very cop- _ey_..."

            She chuckled. "I lied."

            "Right. Obviously." He rolled his eyes at her. "You steal money from people, sometimes. Now, I'm no cop, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal."

            "I gotta keep up the image, don't I? What best to do than pass for a little thief that's after money to buy her next dose?"

            “You just have an answer to everything, don't you? Well, if it’s true…” Luka wondered, “that you’re an undercover cop and all that –which, by the way, I still have a hard time to believe– why are you telling me, now?”

            “Because I’m gonna close the case real soon,” she admitted. He nodded, but couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face. “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear me say.”

            “I just want you to be okay.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “Are you gonna tell your dad?”

            Marinette smiled. “He already knows. That’s why I’m staying away from him.”

            “When did you tell him?”

            “Roger told him. In May. After…you know.” She crooked an eyebrow at him. “You still don’t believe me.”

            Luka scoffed. “Can you blame me? Besides, don’t you need like at least a couple of years of experience to be an undercover cop? You’re barely twenty-two.”

            “But I have a degree in criminal justice, or you forgot about that?”

            “Honestly, I thought you dropped out when you stopped going to school.”

            “I followed the classes by correspondence, but I showed up to all my exams, and passed. Then, Sabrina got me into the Academy, like she promised.”

            “Oh yeah, you went with her. Does Alya know? That’s why she’s keeping to herself?” he asked.

            “She does.”

            “So I’m the only idiot who didn’t figure it out…”

            “You’re not an idiot,” she grinned at him, as she leaned in to kiss him.

            It was a slow kiss, a warm kiss, comforting, that they both needed, but Luka didn’t let it last. “You don’t need to do that.”

            Marinette nodded. “I know.”

            “I told you I loved you, and you tied me up and left me here for two hours.”

            “Are you mad?” she asked, purring, brushing his neck with her lips, making him shiver under her touch.

            “No… all I’m saying is that you don’t need to do that.”

            “I want to,” she assured him, looking right into his eyes.

            “I’m not sure you know what you want.”

            “You’re the real deal, Luka. You stuck with me through everything. Let me love you.”

            Luka lifted a hand to place on her cheek and smiled. “I think it’d be better if we just…went to sleep right now,” he told her, and she sighed, looking disappointed, but did not argue, as she let herself fall on his side, and forced herself to doze off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Marinette couldn't let go of her all-righteous side after all...


	6. Bouquet of Marigolds

_“That doesn’t prove anything!”_ Adrien heard his own voice, at the back of his head, snapping back at Ladybug. He remembered her looking rather surprised at his burst-out, but that wasn’t enough to throw her off.

_“Why are you even defending him? He’s a horrible person!”_

_“Shut up!” he had exclaimed then, tugging on his leather ears and pressing his palms against his human ones, before he turned his back at her to keep her from seeing him cry. “Shut up! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”_

_They were standing on a building’s rooftop, not far away from the Tuileries gardens and the Louvre, where Ladybug had told him to meet her. Apparently, she had been working with Master Fu for some time –something neither one of them had thought was necessary to mention to Cat Noir– and they had just found out a piece of very circumstantial evidence that incriminated Gabriel Agreste and added him to the list of potential Hawk Moths that could be._

_“He’s horrible to his son and he’s horrible to everyone!” Ladybug had gone on, grabbing him by his shoulder and forcing him to turn around to look at her. She was angry too, now, her eyes, almost glowing as red as her costume. “I mean– There is a reason everyone hates him! He’s bad news, Cat– How can you not see that?”_

_“He wasn’t always like that!” Cat Noir shouted back. “He’s just…he’s grieving– H-his wife l-left him, I…”_

_“So,_ what _?!” Ladybug was quick to overlook her partner’s flustered expression, and didn’t even try to feel sorry for the man the latter was trying to defend._

_“_ Excuse _me?”_

_“Breakups are hard. We get it,” Ladybug asserted. Her nostrils were dilated and she looked like she was containing a hurricane storm in her eyes. “That doesn’t mean you stop being a father. That sure as hell doesn’t mean you stop being respectful toward others. Adrien deserves so much more than this vulgar piece of trash as a father, but he’s too damn blind and stupidly innocent to realize it!” She was waving her arms around herself, screaming so hard he could see the veins on her forehead, just ready to pop._

_“I…”_

_“Adrien lives in a fairy tale where he thinks his daddy will come back to him. He’s_ not _. Gabriel was never his father, and how he’s acting toward him right now is the very proof of it!” she exclaimed, her voice revving in her throat as she spoke, and Cat Noir could hear her heart beat at each one of her words. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, just to open them back up and look at him, and they were shot with red blood and glassy tears. “I really hope Gabriel ends up being Hawk Moth, so we can just end this and Adrien could actually be sent to a home where he’ll be cared for.” She sounded calmer, but her body was still trembling._

_Cat Noir shook his head. “You don’t mean it…” he said, pointing a shaky finger at her, but Ladybug just gripped at it and pulled it down._

_“And why wouldn’t I? I see what his dad does to him. Do you have any idea how_ hard _it is to watch your best friend being so fucking sad and all depressed all the time because his crappy father didn’t show up to his fencing tournaments? Because his oppressive and insensitive dad won’t let him see his friends and have some semblance of a normal life? Because that horrible piece of white_ trash _keeps holding over his poor little blond head cruel threats– l-like pulling him out of school at the tiniest mistake, or sending him away to another country?” Her voice was like a gun cannon, shooting him everywhere, and his body was full of holes now, bleeding, and there was no way anyone could survive these kinds of injuries, but she kept going, sobbing hard now, almost incapable of breathing, but she still managed to push the words out. “Do you know how it feels to see that and know, in your heart, that you will never be enough to fix this? That you are doomed to watch him with dark circles under his eyes because he’s probably crying himself to sleep every night? That all you_ can _do is try to cheer him up, even though you know, deep inside, that you’re too small to fit this…this giant hole inside of him that is slowly eating him out?” She tried to take a breath to calm herself, but her blood was boiling in her veins, and she was shivering uncontrollably. “Adrien deserves to be cared for. And I don’t care if that means that his father is a fucking criminal and that he has to move out of Paris and I don’t get to see him ever again. He deserves the whole world to be at his feet and the sun and moon delivered to him on a silver lining– He deserves all the love and respect of everyone who is lucky enough to meet him, because he_ is _everything that is right and everything that is good in this world. He is the best thing this planet could offer the world, and his dad is trying to ruin that. He deserves to be the happiest human being on Earth and to have everything he ever sought, because_ that _’s how worthy he is. Even if I’m the only one who sees it…”_

_Ladybug had stopped talking then because Cat Noir had kissed her. It was sudden, and he probably wasn’t thinking, but he had done it and, against all odds, she had kissed him back. He had felt her hands closing behind his neck and drawing him closer to her, as the world spun around them, and far noises echoed in the distance. Suddenly, they were alone. They were alone on that roof, they were alone in that city, and they were alone in the world._

_It would be easy to say that, just this very morning, Cat Noir hadn’t expected any of it, at all. He had hoped it, sure, and dreamed and fantasized about it, sometimes for hours, days, at once, he had depicted this perfect image in his head, imagined all the ways it could possibly go, and all the ways it would make him feel, and he had been so wrong, he had to admit it now. He had been so wrong because wonderful, blissful, precious weren’t strong enough words to describe how idyllic it had been, how everything just…clicked into place. He thought that she was going to push him away– but she pulled closer instead and he could breathe her, taste her, hold her, like he had always wanted._

_She was shaking; they both were, but letting go wasn’t an option at this point anymore. The things that she said, the way she said them, they were never spoken by a friend of Adrien’s– there was yearning in them, pain, devotion, as if she felt his own agony in her very soul. These words had been spoken by someone who was bestowed, desperately, so much so, that they would commit to the idea of giving up seeing their love forever, if it meant them to be happy. It was a dangerous type of love; a type that wouldn’t die._

_“W-what-what…w-what w-was that f-f-hor?” she barely managed to get out, as she tried to breathe. She was still holding on to him, he could feel her fingernails sink into the skin at the back of his neck, and she was looking at him, eyes bright, and free from anger._

_He laid his forehead against hers, and sighed. “I just needed you to shut up,” he whispered. “I love you so fucking much, you have no idea, and I just… Thank you.”_

_She nodded. “You’re him, aren’t you?” she asked. “A-Adrien? You’re Adrien.”_

_“Did you really mean what you said?” he tried to avoid the question, but Ladybug knew she already had her answer._

_She took in a deep, cold breath. “I meant every word.”_

_“My dad is not a criminal, Ladybug. You’re wrong about that.”_

_She glanced away, looked down. “Okay.”_

_“I know you well enough to tell that you don’t believe any of that,” he remarked, as he placed his thumb under her chin to make her peer up at him._

_“I believe you,” she said, tears flowing on her cheeks. “I believe you,” she repeated, a little softer this time. “I’ll always be on your side, you know that.”_

_“I know.”_

_Ladybug pursed her lips together. She was still holding him, and he was holding her, and neither of them looked ready to let go of the other. “Now, what?”_

_He chuckled. “I guess you could start by telling me who you are,” he boldly suggested._

_She crooked an eyebrow at him, smirking. “I don’t think I’m allowed to do that…”_

_“We broke many ground rules, tonight, already,” he shrugged. “What’s one more?”_

_She shook her head. “Fu’s gonna be pissed.” She was smiling. Cat Noir liked it when she smiled._

_“I’m sure he’ll find a way to deal with it.” He had his hands on her waist; he squeezed them and pulled her to him to kiss her temple. “Come on, we apparently already know each other, anyway. What’s the harm?”_

_She giggled. “I’m sorry. I made a promise; I can’t tell you, kitten.”_

_“What if…I guessed it? Like you?” he offered, grinning widely. “I get three strikes.”_

_Ladybug laughed out loud. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her elbows on his shoulders, and returned his smile. “You’d have a million tries; you would never guess who I am.”_

_“Why not?”_

_She shrugged, glanced away, scoffed. “Because I’m a nobody?” It wasn’t exactly intended as a question, but it came out that way; insecure, small, fragile. It almost broke him. She shook her head to shake off the feeling and tried to meet his eyes, but had to look down right after. “I’m not exactly a uh…Ladybug outside costume.”_

_“Of course, you are,” he assured her. “You’re just not as loud.”_

_She glared at him. “Now, what that’s supposed to mean?”_

_“Nothing…” he was smirking. “I already know who you are,” he said, very sure of himself, and Ladybug just found it hard to believe him._

_“Really?”_

_“Now, what fun would it be if I told you right away?”_

_She pouted. “Are you really going to play this game?”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he challenged her, a light of friskiness shining in his eyes._

_Ladybug nudged her partner on his arm. “Just tell me, alright?”_

_“Why? I’m sure you think I’m wrong, anyway.”_

_“Adrien, please…” It was so new…and bizarre…to hear her say his name like that, but, suddenly, it was like it finally made sense– like his name, his being, everything about himself really, never made sense without her. She gave his existence meaning. She was the one; whoever might she be, and he was so right to fight for her. He’ll never stop fighting for her. “Tell me…?”_

_He shook his head. “You are…beautiful,” he said. “A-and brave, and smart, and everything... You are the greatest thing that was ever created. You’re a force of nature, Ladybug. You’re the light in the shadows, you’re a melody in the chaos, you’re the heart that won’t ever let go, a name that will never die. You’re so strong, and righteous, and simply marvelous… you_ inspire _me…a-and the whole world, too.” He paused, lifted his hand to press against her cheek and wipe off the tears she couldn’t hold back. They were tears of joy, and love. “There can’t be two of you,” he breathed out. “It’s just impossible.” She didn’t say anything. “You made me into who I am– you’re the only reason I didn’t fall apart,_ Marinette _.”_

_Ladybug smiled, then hissed herself on her toes to kiss him, slowly, languorously, before she let go, and burst into giggles._

_Cat Noir seemed confused. “What?”_

_She kept on laughing for another thirty seconds, her head pressed against his chest, before she was finally able to hold her breath and look at him. “Just imagine how awkward would it have been, if you had guessed the wrong name…”_

 

 

Adrien smiled at the memory. It was a good one, he thought; maybe even one of their best. But it was all gone now. Those two seventeen-year-olds were gone, their relationship never existed.

            “Mom? Can I ask you something?” he asked, as he walked into his mom’s office. She was at her desk, behind her computer screen, her glasses pending on her nose, and her face lighted up when she saw him.

            “Sure, honey,” she replied, gesturing to the chair before her for him to sit. He did.

            He rested his elbows on the table, and his head between his palms and looked at his mom for a long minute, trying to figure out if it really was all worth it– that he may have lost the love of his life, but at least, he got his mother back.

            He hadn’t spent a minute with Emilie since he woke up in this world; all he did was running after Marinette, and talking and asking about her, and getting screamed at by her, getting hurt, every time she pushed him away. He would lie if he said he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

            He traded her for his mother, he knew that know. And there was no way out or around it: Fu didn’t trust him –he wouldn’t let him near the Miraculous Chest– and Marinette didn’t love him in this reality…she didn’t even like him. So, he just had to deal with it, he guessed. “How do you stop loving someone?”

 

***

 

“Marinette? Marinette!” Kan called the young woman’s name from the hallway outside her apartment, as he furiously pounded on her door. “Come on, Marinette– Open up! Marinette!”

            “ _Oohh, who is_ that _?_ ” Kan couldn’t push the memory away, as he recognized his best friend Quentin’s voice echoing at the back of his head, and the forlorn scene slithering back into his mind. Suddenly, he was brought nine months back, when he was still living on Quentin and Lavinia’s couch, in some dump of the 93rd district. It was not long after Celeste’s death, he remembered. “ _Oh, no…would you look at that! She_ misses _you… How cute!_ ”

            Kan’s relationship with Quentin has always been rather…peculiar. I mean, from the very moment they first met, and until now, Kan still couldn’t explain this strange tie that linked them to each other. At least, that’s what Marinette helped him realize. Their friendship had no foundation, and the affection they held towards one another, it was a toxic kind of attachment, some sort of dependence. And they knew that, it seemed, but they still needed each other– s-so they _protected_ each other, helped each other out.

            _“What?! Give it back!” Kan shouted back at his friend, as he launched himself toward him to take his phone back, but Quentin was faster, and stronger, and pushed him against the coffee table, smirking, as he saw him fall down._

_He held the phone above his head, because he knew he was taller than Kan. “Hold up, now, hold up…” he laughed at his face, “I just wanna see what she looks like…”_

_“Quentin, I swear to God– If you don’t give me back my phone right now, I will…” Kan began to threaten him, as he crawled to his feet, but Quentin kicked him back down, still scouring the phone for dirt._

            They were just playing, Kan kept on repeating to himself, as he continued to knock on Marinette’s door. This was just how they _played_ , messed around… Quentin would never hurt him– not really. They were all empty warnings. He was his friend, and he loved him. They had each other’s backs; they always have had.

            _“You will…what? Ha,” Quentin chuckled. “I’ll tell you what you’ll do: you’ll do nothing. That is, if you want to keep your pretty face, of course,” he said, as he moved to sit on Kan’s back to hold him against the ground and keep him from getting up, or moving, or reaching for his phone, or even breathing. “Argh, don’t be such a baby, K-Man,” he told him when Kan started coughing. “You know, that’s pretty insulting, if you think about it. You’re basically calling me fat to my face,” Quentin laughed at his own joke, before he laid his entire weight on his friend, almost causing the latter to suffocate._

_“Just give me back my phone…” Kan barely managed to choke out._

            Quentin had been the one to tell him Celeste was dead; he also had been the one who offered him to stay at his and Lavinia’s until he was ready to get back on his feet, little after his landlord had kicked him out for not being able to pay rent for three whole months.

            Kan had always had this weird feeling that Quentin may have had something to do with his sister’s premature death, but he never confronted him about it– he was too scared of the answer. There were many unspoken words between Quentin and him. Feelings he kept buried deep down inside, because they were heinous and aggressive, and poisonous, and, if they were ever said out loud, they would probably be enough to bring him to his downfall.

            Kan was in a bad place when he met him. Quentin had gotten him out of his mess, but Kan always believed it was because he had felt guilty– Quentin was the one who killed Kan’s mom. The latter was only fifteen, but he never blamed him. He never really cared. His mom was insane. She was a bad woman. Besides, Quentin was only following direct orders. Kan’s only regret had been not to have picked up the gun himself and placed it against her head; he would’ve probably done it sooner or later, anyway.

            Her death left a mess, and there had been no adult left to clean it up– Celeste was obviously in no condition to take care of them and Kan had never met their dad. They were crawling under debts and social services were set on the idea to tear apart what was left of their family but…Quentin fixed it. Somehow, he fixed everything, and Kan got to stay with Celeste and be sure she was being taken care of. Be it an act out of pity, or remorse, Kan couldn’t care less. He just knew he owed him, even though he sometimes wished Quentin had just left it alone.

            “Marinette! I said open up! I _know_ you’re in there; I can hear you. Just, _please_! I need to talk to you.”

_“Calm down, jeez… I just want to take a look at the girl who’s been turning you into that big ball of mush,” he said, still refusing to get up. “Oho… Bing-o! K-Man–_ Damn _…baby! What is_ that _? Now, that’s what I’m talking about!”_

_“Shut the fuck up and give me back my phone!”_

_Quentin ignored him. “You have any more pictures of her?” he asked, still going around his phone’s picture albums. “Maybe with_ fewer _clothes on, ya know what I mean?”_

_“No! Now, get off me– Don’t you have to be an asshole somewhere else?!”_

_“Oh, stop it. You love it when I’m around… Now, tell me, how on earth did a piece of utmost trash like you manage to score a lady like this one? Huh?”_

_“Get. Up. And give me back my fucking phone.”_

_“When will I get to meet her?”_

_If he could, Kan would’ve probably laughed out loud. “How about_ never _?”_

_“Well, that is an unfortunately long time. What if_ I _really want to meet her? What’s her name?”_

_“Leave him alone,” Lavinia ordered her boyfriend, as she walked into the apartment, her hands full of grocery bags. “He’ll talk about it when he’s ready,” she said, frowning at Quentin, who got up instantly, and even held out a hand to his friend to help him up. “Regardless, he’s probably right to keep her a secret. So stop pushing it.”_

_Quentin glanced away, pouting, but nodded nonetheless and returned his phone to Kan, before he went up to Lavinia to help her with the groceries. “You were gone for more than three hours,” he remarked. “Where were you?”_

            Quentin was a fuck-up, everyone knew that. His mom was bipolar and his dad was an alcoholic– he never really had anything, growing up. Lavinia was his whole life, the gang was his family, and in his own messed up way, he cared about Kan like he would for a little brother.

            Their relationship might _have_ been complicated at best, but then again, everything in Kan’s life was complicated– Starting with his affiliation to one of the biggest drug cartels in Europe. That must have been the reason why they offed his mom, he always wondered. She had been a lawyer; she must’ve had known something. They did this, sometimes, to cover their traces and show people how to keep quiet.

            Or he was wrong, and it was God who sent Quentin to get rid of her. Either way, she was gone –thanks to the gang– and, now that Celeste was dead as well, that gang was really all what Kan had left.

_“Why, screwing your mother, of course,” she replied, smirking. Quentin furrowed his brows at her; she rolled her eyes. “Boss called in; he wanted to see me, so…I went.”_

_“I told you not to go to them alone,” Quentin scolded her, but he seemed more worried than angry._

_She shrugged. “You were sleeping. God knows you need it.”_

_“Well, you should’ve woken me up. Or– taken Kan with you, at least…”_

_“It’s his day off. And stop micromanaging me. I’m fine, alright?”_

            “What do you want?” Marinette cut into his stream of thoughts like a knife to his brain, and she looked annoyed at the sight of him.

            She was dripping wet with only a towel on and seemed like she wanted to kill him. He didn’t care. “I need to talk to you,” he announced, as he pushed her out of the way and made it to her apartment. It smelled like pizza and old clothes inside, and everything was a mess, but it was better held than Quentin and Lavinia’s apartment, or his, for that matter.

            Marinette closed the door behind him. “Well? _Talk_.”

            Kan pressed his arms against the back of Marinette’s couch and let out a big sigh before he said, “you’re gonna have to take Quentin and Lavinia out of the equation if you want me to help you at all.”

            “I…beg your pardon?”

            Kan shook his head. He still wasn’t looking at her. “You _know_ them. They’re a bit shady, but they’re good people. They don’t deserve to go down with all of it.”

            Marinette scoffed. “Quentin doesn’t get his nickname _Mercury_ for nothing, Kan,” she said. “I have _proof_ he killed– _More_ than once. And Lavinia? Lavinia’s a _viper_. She lures their victims in and then watches, as the light burns out of their eyes.”

            Kan refused to hear it. “They only follow direct orders,” he defended them. “It’s either kill or get killed, in there. You know that, Red.”

            “They’re _sociopaths_. And, I’m sorry, Kan,” she pouted, “but I don’t cover for killers.”

            “ _I_ ’m a killer!” he exclaimed, at last turning around to face her, and he held on to his frustration and his anger to better intimidate her, or convince himself at least that _he_ had the upper hand here, even though he knew it wasn’t true.

            “You didn’t kill anyone, Kan.”

            “Or you’re just choosing to believe that to feel better,” he defied her. “Because you know you wouldn’t be able to deal with yourself if you thought you once fell for a killer.”

            Marinette took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Fine. Who did you kill?”

            Kan shrugged. “All the people who overdosed because of me.”

            Marinette let out an empty chuckle. “That doesn’t even count as involuntary manslaughter, you h…”

            Kan didn’t let her finish. “I have blood on my hands, Marinette. How does that make me any different than Quentin and Lavinia? You know them, you know where they came from, and you know why they’re the way they are.”

            She shook her head. “Kan…”

            “That’s bias. You’re _biased_. That’s why you’re protecting me. It’s _unfair_!”

            “ _Of course_ , I’m biased!” she shot back. “Lavinia gave me my very first line of coke,” she went on, a little calmer, as she hugged her towel closer. “Then, my second, and my third… My tenth… My hundredth… She _taught_ me how to shoot myself with _heroin_. She saw what it did to me; she never tried to stop me. And now, I’m gonna have to live with it. Make _all my life_ about _staying sober_. But there’s not a _minute_ where I’m not thinking about getting my next dose, and that’s on _her_. Because I need someone to blame and that person is Lavinia, Kan. So, I’m sorry if I don’t feel like helping her, right now.” She was speaking loudly, assertively, looking right into his eyes, and he felt so small, he didn’t say anything for a while. She moved toward the door. “If that was all, you can leave.”

            “You could be the youngest cop _ever_ to take down, _single-handedly_ , an entire drug cartel; one of the _largest_ criminal organizations in Europe. A-all I’m asking…is to help out my friends.”

            “This _was_ my operation,” she nodded, tears prickling in her eyes, but she chose to disregard them to make her point. “Well, it was mine and my partner Sabrina’s,” she quickly rectified. “Her dad –he’s the Chief, now– he thought he was just sending us to investigate on a b&e. Turned out the woman who filed the report was just trying to cover her ass because she knew her fingerprints were going to be found all over a different crime scene.” She paused, glanced away. “It was my first murder,” she chuckled. “I was _excited_. As were Sabrina. We _wanted_ to solve it. Roger didn’t want to assign us the case, at first, because we were too young, didn’t have enough experience, or whatever.” She shrugged. “We convinced him. He always had a soft spot for us. Ha. Wonder why…” she let out a shaky sigh. Kan didn’t speak; she carried on, “a guy was poisoned with mercury: 4.5 grams were found in his system. It was so much cooler than a vulgar street stab, I remember thinking. So, we entered the John Doe case into the system, and _surprise_! it was linked to nearly _twenty-two_ other abandoned, unsolved murder cases, where all victims died the same exact way.

            “My first thought was: we’re gonna catch that fucking serial killer. Now, there’s not a day that goes on without me regretting than damn thought,” she hissed between her teeth. “Because it led me to _you_ , and it led me to them…and to all of this. I was just trying to do the right thing, Kan…and look at what it did to me.” Kan never once tried to interrupt her. “They dropped me out of the case after my stay at the Marmottan Hospital, even though it was enough to fire me, o-or put me on desk duty forever,” she snorted. “Sabrina _begged_ her dad to let me continue the investigation…but it’s not _my_ case anymore. So, really, I don’t see how I get anything out of it.”

            Had she have smiled, Kan would’ve felt less guilty pulling out the recorder he had had in his pocket all this time. But she was just looking at him, dressed in her ridiculously little towel, her hair still wet from the shower, as she spilled her guts to him, and he felt awful to use her words against her; as if he’d just thrust a giant knife inside his own throat. He still pressed play.

            _This_ was _my operation. Well, it was mine and my partner Sabrina’s. Her dad –he’s the Chief, now– he thought he was just sending us to investigate on a b &e. Turned out the woman who filed the report was just trying to cover her ass because she knew her fingerprints were going to be found all over a different crime scene._

            “You’re an _idiot_ to trust me, Red,” he whispered, as he stopped the recorder. “I could take that to the big boss,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’ll send them after you. You’ll either die choked up with mercury or you blow up your cover and let the pigs protect you. But either way, that’s pretty much a lose-lose situation.” She didn’t reply. “So? You gonna protect them?”

            Marinette breathed in before she quickly wiped the tears off her face. “No.” Her voice was shaking, but she refused to break. “I have enough evidence to arrest Lavinia and Quentin tonight. So, even if I go down, I’ll take them down with me. Then, the boss will probably find a way to kill them, once they’ll be in jail, to keep them from ratting out the rest of you in exchange of a lesser sentence.” She grimaced. “I mean, they’re each looking at forty, fifty years _easy_ … _That_ is, if not a life sentence…”

            “You’re bluffing.”

            Marinette smirked. “Maybe. I mean, we’re just a tiny little police department. What danger could we really represent? You could choose to believe that, if it helps you sleep at night. We’re nothing and we’re nothing before you or your boss. The DGSE, on the other hand…”

            Kan frowned at her. “You think because you spent what? six, seven months with us…you know anything about our lives?” he tried to keep his voice down, and stay calm. It wasn’t easy. “You’re just a cop. And all you _pigs_ can see is the law. You break it, you go to jail. That’s how it works. You steal a piece of bread; you do fifteen years, just like Victor Hugo said. You never try to wonder why they stole the bread in the first place.”

            Marinette’s shoulders dropped at once. “Okay,” she sighed. “What’s _their_ side of the story?” she asked, and Kan was so surprised suddenly, he almost didn’t answer. “How are they not sociopaths?”

            “All the people he killed…they were _bad_ people, Marinette,” he admitted, thinking first and foremost about his own mother. “They were abusers w-who ah… _beat_ down their children or anyone who was underneath them… uh… They were criminals, too… I mean, this goes needless to say, right? If the bosses cared enough about them to send them to their deaths… They weren’t just random persons he picked out on the street…”

            Marinette pursed her lips together. “‘ _Any person suspected or prosecuted is presumed innocent for as long as their guilt has not been established_ ,’ article 9 of the _Declaration_ ,” she quoted, crossing her arms together. “Quentin _confessed_ to his killing those people. To no other but _me_. But do I just have to take your word for it, and believe that those victims were involved in criminal activity? After you lied to me, and manipulated me like that?”

            Kan clenched his jaw. “Quentin did that in confidence.”

            “He did it to brag about it.”

            “Isn’t there a law that prevents you from using this confession, or something?”

            “I’m not legally obliged to tell you that I’m a cop, if I don’t intend to use any of my state acquired powers against you,” she told him. “Besides, no judge is gonna take any of this as an excuse to disregard _multiple_ homicides, Kan. Quentin doesn’t get to choose who dies and who doesn’t.” She shrugged. “That’s just… how it works.”

            Kan closed his eyes, put his head down. “I’ll tell you _everything_ I know,” he promised, “and the immunity you promised me…it goes to _them_.” He shrugged. “I don’t care. I’ll go to jail, if it means they don’t get to.”

            “ _Why_ are you protecting them?” Marinette almost screamed at him, pounding her foot against the floor. “Kan…you don’t owe them _anything_.”

            “I owe them _everything_ , Marinette,” he said, as he peered up at her, and he was crying now. “They _deserve_ a fresh start… _far_ away from all this _madness_.”

            “So do _you_!”

            He shook his head. “Yeah, but I don’t have anything to _lose_. My mom’s gone, Celeste’s dead, I never knew my dad… and _you_ … I’d be a fool if I ever thought I had you.”

            “Kan…”

            “I’m serious, Marinette. I won’t leave here until I hear you say that you’re gonna leave Quentin and Lavinia alone. I don’t care what happens to me. You’re still new. You have _no idea_ how deep this operation runs. What I know could be the downfall of an _empire_.”

            “I can’t do that, Kan,” Marinette almost looked sorry to say.

            “If you _ever_ loved me…if even a small, tiny, obscure piece of you still does… _please_ ,” he was begging now, and it killed her to see him like this– Kan was never like this. Kan didn’t cry, Kan didn’t _beg_. Kan was strong and ferocious. He took what he wanted like a damned animal, manipulated his way into people’s mind. He was one of the cartel’s French base best assets. He was shark, a _wolf_ , and his bloody loyalty was going to be the death of him.

            “I can’t. Let me finish,” she immediately added, when she saw his eyes round up in fear and his whole face go white, and those three little words were enough to allow him to breathe again. “What I _can_ do, however,” she said, and she could hear his heart beating uncontrollably from where she was standing, “is to call you, ahead of time, right before we bring it all down. It’ll give them time to run away.”

            “Run away? That’s your solution?” Kan sounded insulted, but Marinette seemed so sure of herself, he decided to trust her on that. “And go where?”

            “Ukraine,” she told him. “Bulgaria, Poland… _Russia_ , even. They could go to Norway; they’ll never be followed there. Not by any Intelligence Agency, anyway. They don’t have that kind of time. But Kan, and I swear it on my _mother_ ’s grave, if I hear they’ve done _anything_ to incriminate themselves, even so much so as _shoplifting_ , so help me God, I’m gonna personally hunt _you_ down and cut you to pieces.”

            Kan looked at her and couldn’t help down a smile. “You got it.”

            She gestured to the recorder he still had in his pocket. “Destroy it.”

            Kan did not hesitate; he took out the recorder and threw it on the floor, before he stomped on it several times, until it was just a pile of gears and electronic mess.

            “Thank you. Now, get out.” He nodded, and Marinette opened the door to let him through. As he stepped outside, he turned around to face her, and grinned. Marinette lifted both her eyebrows at him. “What, now?”

            “I may be crazy here, but is there a chance you still love me, Red?”

            She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s it. We’re done, here,” she said, glaring at him, but all he heard, was how she avoided the question.

            He smiled even wider. “Then, why aren’t you closing the damn door, already?” he asked, purring, as he dared to lean toward her, and he was looking at her lips like he wanted to kiss her. Marinette blushed at the realization.

            “Bye, Kan– Do _not_ come back,” she quickly blurted out, before she slammed the door to his face, and left him, standing alone in the empty hallway.

            He just smiled to himself, looking like he’d just won at life, and sighed, as he pressed his forehead against the cold wall. “See you on Saturday, then,” he said, loud enough so she could hear him, but he didn’t stay to hear her reply.


	7. Hiraeth

 

Call if _fate_ , destiny…God knows it had been something powerful that had pushed Marinette through the doors of a little florist’s shop on Mouffetard Street that day. It was pouring, outside, and the wind was howling like a mad ghost haunting the streets of the city, as thunders made the old buildings shiver and lightning tore the sky apart.

            “Looks like the universe is feeling pretty angry today,” the old woman standing by the cashier remarked, greeting Marinette with a big smile.

            The latter scoffed. “I really think He’s trying to punish me or something,” she joked, glancing down at her clothes; she was soaked to the bone –her hair was completely ruined, as were her shoes, which she decided to take off, as well as her socks, to avoid catching a cold. She found it stupid that she didn’t own an umbrella yet, especially considering the fact that she was living in one of France’s most wintery cities. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized to the store owner, “do you mind?”

            Mia only smiled. “Of course no, sweetie. Here, let me check in the back to see if I have a towel I could lend you…”

            “Oh, you don’t have to–” Marinette started to say, but Mia lifted a hand to stop her and got up from her stool, before she disappeared behind a pair orange string curtains.

            When she came back, she had a big fluffy towel in hands that she wrapped around Marinette’s shoulders, after she convinced her to take the rest of her clothes off. She handed her a dry t-shirt with the shop’s logo printed on it and offered to make her some tea. “You’ll have to drink it out of a plastic cup, though. Oscar has managed to break all my ceramics.”

            “You’ve done more than enough, ma’am, I don’t even know how to thank you,” Marinette seemed sincere, even though she knew better than to blindly trust a stranger– particularly when said stranger was so overly friendly and welcoming. “Is Oscar your grandson?” Marinette thought to ask, in order to keep the conversation going.

            Mia chuckled and shook her head. “Call me Mia, already. And Oscar is my cat,” she replied, as she stepped back into the shop, a tray of tea and dry biscuits in hand, which she placed on the counter before she invited Marinette to sit on the stool next to hers. She didn’t need to pry. “He’s almost sixteen years old, now. You probably don’t realize it, but it’s pretty old for a cat. I mean, I’m saying this– I can already see it; the poor creature has already gone senile.”

            Marinette laughed, took a sip of her tea. It was regular tea, the cheap kind, but the taste was still good. “I had a cat, once,” she said. “She was all white with pretty blue eyes. We got her when she was just a kitten. She really liked baths, for some reason,” Marinette went on, as she chased behind the faint memory she knew she still had somewhere in her brain. “But then, my dad got allergic and…well, we had to send her away.”

            Mia’s face softened. “What was her name?”

            “We were never able to agree on a name, actually,” Marinette giggled. “So we just ended up calling her Newbie.”

            “That is simply adorable,” Mia complimented her, as she extended a friendly hand to strum on the young woman’s knee. “So? Tell me everything. What is new with you, Marinette?”

            The latter furrowed her brows in confusion. “I’m sorry…d-do– Do we know each other? How do you know I am?” From the look on Marinette’s face, one could tell she was already prepared to fight the old woman and call the police, if anything she deemed off were to happen– if she had learned anything from her time spent with Kan and his entourage, it was to never underestimate anyone. And really, at this point, she had zero problems punching a grandma in the face if it kept her from getting stabbed.

            Mia lifted both her eyebrows at her, but made no sudden move. “I never forget a face, you should know that about me,” she told her, taking a sip of her tea. “I remember you used to come here all the time when you were younger, but that honestly feels like forever ago.”

            “R-really?”

            Mia nodded. “You and your father would come in every Sunday morning and pick out a nice assortment of lilies for your mother,” she told her, and Marinette felt herself relax. “For a year and a half, the both of you kept coming in, every week, on your way to the cemetery,” she said, smiling softly. “But then, you started showing up less and less, twice a month, maybe, once in a while, until you stopped passing by altogether,” she sighed. “It’s not at all a reproach, Marinette,” Mia was quick to add. She shrugged. “I’m just saying that I missed seeing your pretty little freckles on Sundays, or hearing about your studies. Tom still comes in every month or so. He seems to be doing better.”

            Marinette felt shy all of a sudden. She tried to keep a friendly face. “Yeah, he’s alright. He has Candice to look after him, now.” It wasn’t information she would’ve normally disclosed to anyone, but weirdly enough, there was something about this old woman’s way of speaking that simply beguiled Marinette into trusting her. The latter felt safe in this shop.

            “So…? How is school?”

            Marinette took a sip of her tea and reached for a biscuit on the tray. “Well, I don’t know if I already said this, but I dropped out of fashion school, and decided to uh…change paths.”

            “Oh, yes. Your father mentioned it already. And…? What are you doing instead?”

            “Uh…” Marinette glanced away, blushing. “Well, I’m kind of in between jobs, right now,” she admitted. “I ah…teach, sometimes. I have a couple of students that live close by– I was besides on my way to their house.”

            “I always said that teaching was one of the most honorable professions,” Mia nodded.

            “Definitely,” Marinette chuckled. “I love it. It’s very rewarding.”

            “That’s great. What about Alya? Have you seen her lately?”

            Marinette almost didn’t answer, but the old woman’s face was so warm and kind, she just felt bad leaving her hanging. “We don’t exactly…talk, lately.”

            Mia blinked in astound. “Oh, dear! Whatever happened? You two used to be like sisters.”

            Marinette tried not to seem irritated by all the questions– even though the florist was sure about how well they knew each other, Marinette didn’t even remember her, to say the least, and found the inquiries rather intrusive, even if she knew they came from a good place. “Actually, if you don’t mind…I’d rather not talk about it…”

            The old woman let out a little giggle. “Oh, don’t worry dear; it’s perfectly fine. We all have our share of little secrets…don’t we? Oh! That reminds me…” Mia got to her feet as soon as the thought occurred to her, and reached for a drawer under her desk. “I…have been keeping something of yours for some time,” she said, as she scoured through her things. “I just found it the other day, as I was sorting the inventory. I thought I’d give it to your father when I’d see him, but, since you’re already here…”

            “What is it?”

            Mia was about to reply before she finally put her hand on what she was looking for, so she decided to show her instead. It was a notebook with a pink and white polka dots hardcover that very much looked like the journal Marinette had kept during her high school years. “Well, at least I _think_ it’s yours,” Mia sighed, as she handed it to her, and sat back on her stool. “I never opened it,” the old woman assured her. “All I know is that it’s your name that’s written on it.” Marinette still wasn’t talking. She opened the journal on the first page and started reading the entry. She recognized her own handwriting, but seemed confused as the words didn’t seem familiar. “What’s the matter?”

            Marinette shook her head. “I… Just, I’m– I’m pretty sure my journal is at home. A-and maybe it _is_ my name, b-but…” she paused to take a glimpse at the front cover, where she had written her full name with a silver marker; _Marinette Bao Jie Dupain-Cheng_. It meant heroic protector– Marinette had always thought her mom had chosen this name for her in the hope she would grow up to become a hero, or a guardian of some sort. Well, she kind of was, now, as a police officer. “I-I mean…it looks like I wrote it but I…I don’t remember any of it.”

            Mia shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. “Oh, well. I think you should keep it regardless; it has been sitting idle at the back of my shop for years, maybe. I’m sure it’ll be much happier with you,” she scoffed.

            “But…what if it’s not mine?” Marinette wondered.

            “Honestly? I could’ve just thrown it away,” Mia said. “But I thought you’d like to read it. I mean, why not? And…well, it could be the next bestseller for all we know,” she snickered. “Oh, look, it stopped raining. Your clothes are still wet; let me see if I can find anything for you in the back.”

            “You really don’t have to, Mia…I’m just a couple stations away from…”

            “I _insist_ ,” Mia didn’t take any of Marinette’s excuses; didn’t even let her finish, let alone argue. “Let’s not give Tom a reason to buy two assortments of lilies when he comes to visit me next time, okay?”

 

***

 

“What the _hell_ are you wearing?” were the first words Sabrina said to Marinette, after she hadn’t seen her for at least two whole weeks, when the latter rang the door to her apartment– Marinette was wearing oversized gray sweatpants and an ugly t-shirt, carrying a plastic bag with her clothes in it, and didn’t look at all amused by her partner’s reaction.

            “Shut up. It was pouring outside; I was completely drenched. I _had_ to change out of my clothes,” she said, gesturing to her bag. “Shops are already closed at this hour… That’s all I could find.”

            “Where did you _look_?” Sabrina wondered, unable to hold down a giggle, and even when Marinette glared at her, looking incredibly threatening, she still couldn’t stop smiling. “You stole them from a homeless guy or something?”

            “Oh, fucking piss off.”

            “You’re right,” Sabrina nodded, biting on her lips and the inside of her cheeks to get ahold of her laughter. “Stealing is wrong. We shouldn’t be joking about it.”

            “You keep this on, and I _will_ shave your brows,” Marinette warned her.

            “You know, you’re ugly when you frown.”

            “Are you gonna let me in or not?” Marinette sighed, already exhausted by her partner’s antiques.

            Sabrina chuckled then moved out of the way to let her friend through. “You hungry? I’m making soup.”

            Marinette eyed her from head to toe, crooking an eyebrow at her. “You can’t cook,” she stated plainly. “And I don’t want to die yet.”

            “Come on, it’s just soup. How difficult can it be?”

            “Well, if you need to ask yourself that… maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place,” Marinette answered as she headed toward the Raincomprix’ utility room to let her clothes dry whilst she and Sabrina were busy with work.

            Sabrina lived in a nice apartment with her parents and her younger brother Igor, and because she was the Chief’s daughter, it wasn’t exactly common for Marinette to meet her here these days, but Roger and Sarah were out of town for the night and well, Marinette didn’t want to risk being interrupted by Kan again– she wasn’t even sure her own apartment was safe anymore.

            “I want the bad news first,” Sabrina announced as soon as Marinette stepped back into the kitchen. The former was standing next to the stove, looking right into her casserole pan as if she was waiting for something to happen.

            Marinette didn’t try to beat around the bush. “Kan figured me out.”

            “What?!” Sabrina let out, her face white in shock, as she turned around to look at Marinette. “Are you serious?” The latter nodded. “Ugh, I _told_ you to stay away from the guy,” she reproached her. “He’s a _snake_.”

            “He’s _not_ a snake,” Marinette mumbled. “And, _relax_. I’ve got it covered.”

            “What’d you do?”

            “I offered him a deal. He’s gonna take it.”

            Sabrina placed her hands on her hips, pouting. “Did you get that on paper?”

            “It was more of a… an oral agreement.”

            “What if he’s playing you?”

            Marinette shot her friend a jaded look. “I know him. He wouldn’t lie to me about something like that.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry. _You_ know _him_? How dumb are you, Marinette?” Sabrina scoffed. “They’re playing with your brain. That’s how undercover cops turn into criminals.”

            “I’m not a criminal.”

            “ _Yet_.” Marinette rolled her eyes at her partner, and the latter sighed. “What else you got?”

            “Can you get me into the _Lavandière_ without it getting suspicious?”

            Sabrina frowned and pursed her lips together. “Why?”

            “Why do you think?” Sabrina lifted an eyebrow at Marinette and the latter rolled her eyes at her partner in response. “There’s an important meeting that weekend– I think I could get into the inner circle if I play my cards right.”

            “You sure it’s a good idea?”

            Marinette nodded. “The Montrose shipment is next month. Last time we did a sloppy job, we lost an entire container worth millions of euros in drugs. We’re not repeating that mistake.”

            “So long b&e on Bouvier Street,” Sabrina snorted, as she turned back to her soup. “Ever wondered what happened with Nadine Khojandi?” she asked.

            “Wasn’t she charged with obstruction of justice or something?”

            “She didn’t go to jail though, did she?”

            Marinette made a sound as if to say she didn’t know, before she reached for the document on top of the pile of files Sabrina had arranged at the center of the kitchen island. It was Kan’s. “We’re close, you know,” she said, as she opened the folder and started to read it. “We’re gonna catch ‘em.”

            “Don’t jinx it, Cheng,” Sabrina replied as she slid a bowl of soup before her friend. “What is _it_ between the two of you?” she asked, gesturing to Kan’s file. Marinette was reading it, probably for the hundredth time already– she knew it by heart, she even wrote some of it.

            She shrugged. “Nothing,” she lied.

            “Did you sleep with him?”

            Marinette shook her head and took a spoonful of her soup, before she spit it out almost instantly. “Bree, you’re a _terrible_ cook and I forbid you from cooking anything ever again.” She paused and stared back at the file she had in hands. “And _no_. I didn’t.”

            For a minute there, Sabrina remained silent, and just watched, as Marinette pretended to look over the other files as if they were the most interesting thing she’s done today. The last five years hadn’t been nice to Marinette, at all. She lost her mom is a terrible accident, in which she was wounded too. Her injuries were the main reason she failed out of fashion school. That was when she joined the force. When she went undercover almost nine months ago, Sabrina really thought she would lose her– it wasn’t even six months ago, Marinette had overdosed, and now, Sabrina could perfectly tell the hard time her friend was going through to become sober again and _stay_ that way. If she was being honest, it was her who insisted for her dad to pull Marinette out of the operation, but she had quickly realized how much she needed all _this_. Undercover cops lose themselves when out on the job more often than not, and Marinette needed to hold on to this semblance of normal to keep herself from melting into oblivion. She had to separate herself from everything she held dear, and everything that made her what she was, and had to endorse the personality of someone else, a darker alter-ego that made her feel dusty and broken and sad. She needed to keep working, to re-read the case files, to build maps, to meet with her partner at least once a week, to convince herself that this wasn’t real– That this wasn’t what her life had become– That she was still herself, and that all of this was just a harmless act.

            She had lost weight since the last time she saw her and her skin had taken a yellowish taint. Her eyes were red and always seemed tired, as if sleep was a luxury she was very rarely able to afford. Her lips were dry. She cut her nails short and the skin around them was ripped and bloody, almost nibbled to the bone. Sometimes, Sabrina wondered to herself if she would’ve ended up like this as well, if she had taken Marinette’s place instead. This was stupid of course, because Marinette had already known Kan for quite some time before they all figured him out and it only made the most sense if she had been the one who tried to infiltrate the cartel. The agitation she saw on her face right now, however, was nowhere like the familiar stress and tension that usually lodged her features.

            “Hey… you okay?”

            Marinette lifted her head to meet Sabrina’s eyes. Now that the latter was actually getting a better look at her friend, she could tell Marinette had been crying before she came here. “I’m fine,” she said, pressing her lips together. “Why?”

            Sabrina shook her head. “N-nothing. Just wanted to make sure.”

            Marinette smiled softly, before staring back at the documents on the table. “Got any news from our contacts in London and Berlin?” she asked.

            Sabrina seemed to think about it for a minute or so, before she snapped the papers from Marinette’s hand and began to go through them quickly. She picked out two brown folders Marinette had never seen before and opened them in front of her partner. “London has identified that guy Damon Rothschild as being the one to run most of the operations, but they don’t know any more than that,” she said, gesturing to the picture of a Black man with golden eyes and a big scar across his mouth. He wore fingerless gloves, a black leather jacket and a kerchief on his head, and stood next to a red mustang smiling to a red-headed woman– Marinette couldn’t see her face. They were both on the streets, somewhere in Chelsea. “As of Berlin, they were able to track down and arrest a woman called Rita Öschen,” Sabrina went on, this time pointing to the mugshot of a blond girl with dirty tattoos and piercing all over her face. “But she still isn’t talking.”

            Marinette pouted. “T’sucks, I guess.”

            Sabrina hummed in agreement. “They don’t have enough evidence to keep her in either,” she said, folding her arms together. She probably kept on talking after that, but Marinette had long stopped listening.

            She didn’t have the time to read the whole diary yet, but from what she was able to go through while she was sitting in the subway train, as she waited to her station, she gathered it mostly talked about what she only assumed was an alter-ego of hers, Ladybug, someone called Cat Noir –he was the latter’s best friend– and, of course, Adrien Agreste. She thought it was a piece of fiction at first, but then, there were pictures from something called a _Ladyblog_ , and, as she skimmed through a few more pages, one that was full of giant pink letters and exclamation points caught her attention; she (Ladybug) and Cat Noir had kissed the day before and shared their secret identities with each other (as she read the diary, she didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to keep their names to themselves, but chose not to dwell on it). Cat Noir turned out to be Adrien and right after the big reveal, she could read the words _Marinette Agreste_ written all over a picture of Ladybug and Cat Noir in silver. She assumed it was the time she and Adrien started dating– just like the latter had extensively tried to tell her a couple of days ago when she last saw him.

            He said he came from another reality– where both of them were in love, where they were happy, and where they almost had a child– and she hadn’t believed him. Of course, she hadn’t– it would’ve been foolish to even suppose something as wild as this could’ve made sense; it was the statement of a mad man– but the writing matched her own exactly. _She_ had written the diary.

            “Marinette? Are you listening to me, Marinette?” Sabrina snapped her fingers before Marinette’s face to drag her out of her thoughts. “Hey, are you okay?”

            Marinette rolled her eyes at her, sighed. “Yeah… just tired.”

            “Are you sure you can handle the _Lavandière_ on Saturday?”

            The bluenette shrugged. “You just worry about finding a way to let me in, m’kay?” she snorted.

            Sabrina’s lips parted and she was about to say something, when she was interrupted by Marinette’s phone which started to vibrate on the counter, and her words were lost forever. When she saw Marinette hesitate, she asked, “Aren’t you going to take it?”

            “It’s a hidden number,” she replied, but she picked up nonetheless. “Hello?”

            “ _Hey, uh…May I speak to uh Marinette?_ ”

            The latter took a deep breath. “This is she.” Sabrina shot her a worried look.

            “ _Oh, cool. Um…it’s Max. Max Kanté. W-we went to school together? A-anyway. Your phone number was listed, that’s how I… Whatever, that’s not why I called. You might know this or not but I work at the city police department on the 18 th. I’m in I.T. Hey, remember Adrien Agreste? He also went to school with us. Well, they just brought him in. He was arrested for assault and drunk and disorderly and yada yada, and he’s been screaming your name for like an hour now. Thought you’d like to know._”

            Marinette was a bit shaken at the mention of Adrien’s name and the fact that he was in jail, but tried her best to keep her poise and remain as calm as possible. “Give it a couple more minutes. His daddy will bail him out in a bit.”

            “ _He says he has no one to call_.”

            She shrugged and shook her head. “Well, then _you_ call his dad. I mean, you found my number.”

            “ _Gabriel Agreste’s number isn’t exactly a public number, you know._ ”

            “Well, fuck him, I guess. Adrien’s an adult, he’s perfectly able to take care of himself.”

            “ _I wasn’t asking for him. I was asking for_ me _. Can you please come down here? I want him out._ ”

            “I don’t want to.”

            “ _What? Did you just dump his ass or something? What’d he do?_ ”

            “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

            “ _Fair. But Marinette, please come and get him out. I still have work to get done and he’s really starting to get on my last nerve_.”

            With a grunt, Marinette hung up the phone on Max and rolled her eyes in a theatrical fashion. Sabrina pouted. “What was that about?”

            “Ugh. Just some idiot who is apparently _completely_ unable to properly take care of himself.”

            The Chief’s daughter blinked in confusion and pressed both her arms against the counter’s surface. “Kan?”

            Marinette frowned. “ _Kan_? What? No!”

            “Oh,” Sabrina straightened up, her cheeks a bit pink. She shrugged. “Who, then? Luka? _Does_ he know? It’s been a bit difficult to keep track of you knows and who doesn’t.”

            The bluenette shook her head. “It’s not Luka.”

            Sabrina let out an exhausted puff. “Well, who else in this cruel, cruel world is so desperately in love with you they can’t function correctly?” she giggled, smoothly sliding her hands into her jeans back pockets. “I mean, I kinda get them, if I’m being honest. You have that weird aura that just _draws_ in everyone around you like literal _flies_ on _shit_.”

            Marinette scoffed. “ _Bitch_ ,” she smirked. Sabrina snickered.

            “So? Who is the _un_ lucky bastard?”

            Marinette took in a deep breath. “No one.”

            The young ginger scowled at her. “Liar.” She pursed her lips and waited, but the bluenette didn’t say anything. “Is it Eric?”

            Marinette’s eyes widened at that. “ _Eric_? Ew! _No_! What’s _wrong_ with you?” She snorted. “It’s Adrien.”

            Sabrina lifted an eyebrow at her friend. “Adrien who?”

            The bluenette frowned, hung her head. “Agreste,” she mumbled under her breath and watched as several different emotions appeared and died on the Chief’s daughter’s face but instead of freaking out and beginning to scream and straight-up drown her partner under a flow of inappropriate questions, as the latter had expected, Sabrina remained very calm, though Marinette could still see her upper lip twitching.

            She grinned, placing her hands on her hips, posing confidently. “That’s ought to get interesting. Go on. _Speak_.”

            Marinette shook her head. “There’s nothing to say. He’s a douchebag– and I really think he needs to seek professional help.”

            “Quoth the girl who, after nine months of undercover work and one overdose, is _still_ putting off her psych eval,” Sabrina pouted. “Was he the one who just called?”

            “No. It was Max– Apparently, he’s an I.T. guy on the one-eight now.”

            “Okay…?”

            Marinette closed her eyes and pressed her palms against them before taking a deep breath. “Adrien’s been arrested and he’s asking to see me.”

            Sabrina folded her arms together and her whole face was shining suddenly, as if something somewhere in her brain clicked, and she just had an epiphany. “And?”

            Marinette blushed. “And, _nothing_. Give it two hours before his bodyguard notices his absence and organizes a wake to go out and look for him. He’ll be fine. He’ll get over it. Besides, it’s not like I owe him anything, anyway. Let the moron rot for once in his life.”

            Sabrina tried to fight the urge to grab her car keys on top of the microwave behind her, in vain. “Come on,” she winked at her friend over her shoulder. “I’ll drive you.” She shot Marinette a big smile, before cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting toward the bedrooms, “Igor! I’m going out with Marinette! There’s soup!”

 

***

 

“Why are you even doing this? I told you I didn’t want to go,” Marinette grumbled.

            Sabrina kept her eyes on the road and gestured to the empty streets before them. “Behold the field in which I grow my fucks,” she said. “Lay thine eyes upon it and thou shall see that it is _barren_.” A long pause followed, and Sabrina was sure Marinette was about to say something at some point, but the latter changed her mind last second and rather preferred to give her partner the silent treatment.

            They arrived at the station in barely fifteen minutes. Sabrina took out her detective badge and waved it around, brushing off all uniformed officers that were on her way, walking up to her either to greet her or verify her credentials, as she raced inside, her hand in Marinette’s.

            Max was at his desk, typing code lines on a very old computer screen when he saw them both make an entrance. He got up to welcome them. He was polite as he shook both their hands and smiled, before he started to explain the situation; “There’s not much to tell, really,” he said, leading them past security, and to the cells. “Our friend there is quite the fighter after one too many drinks. Luckily, the guy he punched doesn’t seem like he wants to press charges.” Marinette was looking at the ground, nodding at each of Max’s words to appear as if she was listening, but in reality, her fingertips were frozen, her heart was beating quickly between her lungs, and his voice was but an echo playing at the back of her head. Reluctantly, she followed him towards the station’s cells, waving at the security guard as she did. “They’re with me,” Max introduced them, as he showed the guard his ID.

            Sabrina walked behind her– she still had her hand in Marinette’s and gave it a gentle squeeze when the latter’s steps came to a halt at the sight of Adrien, lying flat on a metal bench behind bars. He was alone. He looked bored, staring at the ceiling, shouting at regular intervals that he needed to get out of here because he needed to speak to a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng. “You okay, hun?” Sabrina whispered in her friend’s ear.

            Marinette let out a humph. “I told you I didn’t want to come. I have nothing to say to him.”

            “Well,” Sabrina tilted her head to meet her partner’s eyes, “He _obviously_ has something to say to you.”

            “I don’t care.”

            The red-headed girl rolled her eyes at her friend. “Of course, you do. Come on, I’ll be right behind you.”

            “Ugh. I want to go home.”

            “You’ve made it this far.”

            “I hate you.”

            “Aw, I hate you too!” Sabrina giggled, circling her arms around her shoulders to hug her. “Go on, I’ll stay here,” she said afterward, taking a step back, as Max announced to Adrien Marinette’s presence.

            The model boy was so surprised to hear it, he almost tripped on his own feet as he got up, so quickly Marinette thought he was about to faint. He wrapped his fingers around the bars and pressed his forehead against them, as if he was trying to get closer to her, and grinned widely, his teeth blazing white. “You came!” he exclaimed, eyes half-closed. “I was hoping you would,” he said. He chuckled, rubbing his knuckles against his chin, his smile never drifting. “You look so pretty. Even in those clothes.”

            Marinette scowled at him, trying to fight off her blush. “What did you want from me?”

            He frowned, looking down, before he peered up at her again. “Nothing,” he said. “You told me to stay away.”

            She sighed. “You called me here.”

            “I didn’t think you would actually come.”

            She shook her head. “Okay, then. See you never,” she told him, as she took a step toward the exit. Immediately, Adrien spread out an arm to reach for her, but he was stopped by a guard.

            “Please, keep your hands off civilians, sir, and back away” the latter ordered him in a strong voice.

            “ _Sorry_ ,” Adrien apologized immediately, before he turned back to Marinette and called after her. “Wait, don’t go!”

            Marinette pouted. “Adrien, you are drunk. I’m not sure you’ll be very happy with yourself when you wake up and realize where you are, and what you did.”

            He shrugged. “I punched someone and I’m in jail. Besides, I’m not _that_ drunk. Just a little _tipsy_ , I’d say.” He smirked. “I’m perfectly aware of myself and my surroundings. I can’t help but notice that you’re here, as well.”

            Marinette lifted her eyebrows at him. “Yeah… because Max called me a-and Sabrina almost forced me to come.”

            “Ha! You said _almost_. That must mean that at least some part of you wanted to see me,” he snorted, giving her a cocky smile. Marinette blushed. “You’re beautiful when you blush…” he paused, wrinkling his nose as he took a minute to think about what he just said. “Actually, you’re _always_ beautiful. Only, you’re particularly stunning when you blush, or smile. And I love it when you laugh, too.” He giggled. “I missed you.”

            “You saw me two days ago.”

            He shrugged. “No, I mean… I _missed_ you.”

            “Yeah, you said that already.” She sighed. “What do you want, Adrien?”

            “You know, if I haven’t found out that my dad was Hawk Moth that night, I would’ve never broken up with you. I was actually planning on proposing to you.” Marinette’s eyes bulged out in surprise, Adrien smiled dreamily. “I even asked your parents and everything. They were somewhat difficult to convince– especially your dad. I mean…we were…what? Nineteen, maybe? Barely at our second year of college. Just a couple of stupid kids. Of course, they wouldn’t be okay with it… In the end though, they seemed pretty excited about it. I _cooked_ ,” he scoffed. “I have never cooked anything in my life, so it was probably terrible…I guess you got lucky there.” He snickered to himself, before falling silent. When he looked back at her, there were tears in his eyes, and they were shining bright, gorgeous green. “I could see it on your face, how I broke your heart on that roof. You tried to keep calm and all but… I said such _terrible_ things. It still haunts me.”

            Marinette shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Adrien, you are not making any sense. You’re drunk and…tired, I suppose. You need to call your bodyguard or _someone_ _other than me_ and get a good night sleep.”

            Adrien looked down. “Mia Moretti said we were meant to be together,” he spoke in a low enough voice, Marinette was the only one who could hear him. “That, no matter what happens, _we_ will always find a way toward each other. She’s a florist. She gave me a magical rose and told me to give to you. She said its magic will keep us together.” He pouted. “I-I guess she was wrong.”

            Marinette looked like she was about to say something but changed her mind. Slowly, she turned around to face Max and Sabrina, who have decided to stand back to give her some privacy, but were still close enough to intervene, if anything were to go wrong. She didn’t need to ask them anything– Sabrina guessed it immediately. “We’ll be just outside,” she assured her friend, as she tugged on Max’s sleeve and gestured to the guard to follow her. He was reluctant at first, but the Chief’s daughter managed to convince him pretty quickly. “Be safe,” she winked, as she closed the door behind her.

            Marinette rolled her eyes at her antics as she turned back to Adrien. “How do you even know Mia?”

            Adrien seemed surprised by her question, but smiled nonetheless. “I know she believes in us.” He thought he sounded suave. “How do _you_ know her?” he asked.

            Marinette sighed and took out a little pink notebook from her pocket. “She gave me that,” she said. It looked like a diary.

            “Why?”

            “Irrelevant.”

            Adrien looked confused. “Um…okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

            She handed him the diary. “Just…” She folded her arms together and looked away. “Tell me what the Hell it is.”

            Adrien opened it. He hummed. “It looks like your diary.”

            “Well, I didn’t write this,” she asserted. “I… there are pictures in there.”

            As he went through the journal, Adrien saw many Polaroids of him and Marinette, as well as their friends, and even some pictures of Ladybug and Cat Noir. There was also a red rose sticking out from between the pages– the one he remembered giving Marinette before they… He shook his head to lose the thought. On the last page, there was a print out of a uterine echography ultrasound; Adrien almost dropped the notebook. The image was in black and white; mostly resembling a big lea of gray with a tiny black spot in the middle– _that_ was the amniotic sack– and the shiny white dot inside was the fetus.

            “Emma?” Marinette asked softly.

            He sniffled– he hadn’t realized he had been crying. “Um…y-yeah,” he nodded, brushing his fingertips across the picture. “Even if we couldn’t tell yet, you knew it was a girl. She was only six weeks old, but I was already excited to meet her.”

            “When did…?” She let the rest of her sentence hand in the air, suddenly unable to voice the question.

            “A couple weeks after the start of senior year in high school, if I recall correctly,” he frowned. “That’s when you told me, anyway. It was at one of Kim’s parties. You were mad at me because I had just broken my arm and uh…” He peered up at her, his eyes, so intensely green, they almost swallowed her. “You let it slip out, right before you burst out of the room. I ran after you, of course, but you were always faster than me. Makes sense, I guess. You’re smaller, lighter– You’d beat me every time.”

            “What happened?”

            He shook his head. “There was a car accident,” he said, looking down at Marinette’s hands. She was wearing gloves to cover up her scars. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, but it didn’t seem like she heard him.

            “You were telling the truth, weren’t you?” He nodded. “How come I don’t remember any of this?”

            “I don’t know,” he lied– if he went on now about Miraculouses and kwamis and ancient Chinese voodoo, it would only confuse her more.

            “What happened to the other me? The one who wrote this.”

            “I guess she stopped existing the second our worlds switched.”

            Marinette pouted. “What about the other Adrien Agreste? The one _I_ know.”

            He shrugged. “The universe has no use for the two of us.”

            She sighed. “That’s…kind of depressing.” She let her forehead rest against the bars, quietly closing the distance between her face and Adrien’s.

            “I just wish there was some way to fix it.” He paused, staring at her. “I’m sorry.”

            “Why are you sorry?” Her tone was gentle; nothing like the Marinette he had spoken with two days ago –nothing like the cold, nasty, snaky Marinette this broken universe had turned her into. He blinked. He always knew the real Marinette – _his_ Marinette– was still here, somewhere under all that dirty hair and heavy makeup.

            “For betraying you,” he admitted, hanging his head down. “You…” He sighed, shook his head. “You trusted me and I… I took advantage of it. I’m sorry. I wished for a world where my mom wouldn’t be sick, and by doing so taken from my father his only reason to become the Hawk Moth. And without a supervillain to combat, Ladybug and Cat Noir just didn’t need to come to existence. In this reality, we were never but Adrien and Marinette.”

            The corner of her mouth curled up in a small smile. “You know I have no idea what you’re talking about, right? Like, I could forgive you right now for whatever you did– but weirdly enough, I don’t think it’ll bring you any peace.”

            He shrugged. “Yeah, probably not. I guess I’m just happy that you don’t hate me anymore.”

            She snorted. “I never hated you, Adrien. I just didn’t like the way you acted.”

            “Then, I’m sorry about the way I acted,” he smirked.

            His breath smelled like alcohol; Marinette stood close enough to recognize the scent of a vodka and energy drink cocktail– He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. He had deep dark circles under his eyes; his lower lip was ripped on the side and there was a bit of dried blood on his chin as well. For a reason she couldn’t quite place yet, she genuinely felt sad for him– he looked like he had lost everything tonight: that was only a feeling she could perfectly relate too. “I’m sorry we’ve lost our ways,” she said in a soft voice and tried not to move when his fingers shifted to close around hers. They were cold because they didn’t let him keep his jacket, but their embrace felt comforting, almost natural.

            “If it weren’t for these bars,” Adrien whispered, “I would probably kiss you right now.”

            Instinctively, Marinette stared down at his lips and pressed herself against the black poles of the cell. “There are so many things I’m missing and so many storylines that do not make sense… so many memories I fail to remember… It’s like the guy who built this world did a terrible job at it. But I guess that’s what life is all about. Confusion, fear, uncertainties… but the good outweighs the bad, believe me. In the end, it’s all worth it, I promise,” she said, smiling as she bit on her lip.

            He smiled back. “Thank you.”

            Marinette looked like she was about to say something else when she was interrupted by a buzzer and the door opening. A guard marched in, flipping a set of keys in his hand. “You’re free to go, Agreste,” he said, advancing toward Adrien’s cell to open it.

            “I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Marinette said, as she made her way back to her friends.

 

“So? You were in there for quite some time,” Sabrina remarked, her hands on her hips, as she saw Marinette walk up to her. “Care to fill us in?”

            Marinette stuck her tongue out at her friend. “Nope.”

            As she made her way past Sabrina and to the stairs, the latter turned around and jogged after her partner, leaving Max to chat up with an officer that was hanging around the cells –she didn’t exactly catch his name. “I drove you here, Cheng! I mean, it’s the least you could do…!”

            “Don’t act like you did it against your will,” Marinette pouted. “Who bailed him out?”

            “I didn’t ask,” Sabrina replied. “His bodyguard, most probably.”

            “Oh. Well, I better take off anyway,” Marinette swiftly changed the subject, her thumb pointing at something behind her. “Guess I’ll see you next week?”

            The Chief’s daughter frowned, looking all very suspicious of her friend’s attitude. “And…where are you going?”

            The bluenette chuckled. “Ah, home.” She seemed uncertain.

            “I could drive you,” Sabrina suggested.

            “I need to walk it off.”

 

***

 

Montmartre was a beautiful sight by night, Marinette always thought so, she remembered, as she made her way to the Sacré-Cœur Plaza– la place du Tertre was a walking distance from the police station.

            She passed by a group of Asian tourists armed with expensive cameras and selfie sticks and lead by an English-speaking guide throughout one of the oldest parts of the capital; now, Marinette’s English wasn’t exactly the best, but even she knew the guide was struggling to be understood by everyone.

            There was a sandwich stand near the basilica which was right about to close up for the day when Marinette ordered a ham and cheese crepe to eat on the stairs. The view was breathtaking from up here, with the Eiffel Tower shining like a disco ball in the distance and the lights of the stadium illuminating the dark sky.

            The air was cold, as it usually was in fall in Paris, and some bistrots readied themselves for dinner time. A young couple wandered next to her and asked for a picture with the magnificent view of the city of lights, and Marinette was happy to oblige.

            “I mean, it’s flattering, of course, but it’s still kind of weird that you keep following me like this,” a voice spoke behind her, right after she gave the phone back to the teen girl and her boyfriend, who both checked the picture Marinette had taken of them, and thanked her, before waving her off. “Some might even think that you’re _stalking_ me,” it giggled in her ear, but Marinette had no problem recognizing Kan’s annoying tone.

            She turned around, taking a couple steps back, and smiled. “Hey. I forgot you lived in the area.”

            For a second there, Kan seemed confused, as he shoved his hands down his pockets and avoided Marinette’s gaze. “So…w-what are you doing here?”

            She shrugged. “I got called up by the one-eight and decided to hang out here for a bit.”

            “Cool,” he nodded, scratching his cheek and looking at the ground. Marinette almost found the way he was acting amusing– she liked making him nervous. “D-did you want to have a bite? My treat.”

            “I just ate,” she replied.

            “Oh.”

            “But I’d be up for a drink,” she suggested, shrugging.

            Kan lifted an eyebrow at her and smirked, as he drew out an arm for her to hold on, while they walked amongst the streets of the old town.

            They stopped by a small bistrot in a hidden alley and took place on a tiny table inside. There weren’t that many customers, but Kan assured Marinette this place served the best meat.

            The radio was on, the music was terrible, and the waiters were uncharacteristically friendly– Kan ordered a big steak, medium rare, served with steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes, whereas Marinette insisted she was hungry. He also asked for a carafe of homemade wine and two glasses, which he was curious about when he read it on the menu.

            “It’s really good,” Marinette remarked as she tasted it. Kan smiled and tried it himself.

            “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked. Marinette crooked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled. “It’s just… you must be pretty desperate to agree to go on a date with me.”

            Marinette pursed her lips together. “Is that what this is?” He blushed.

            “Why aren’t you home?”

            “Because I know I have a stash of heroin hidden in a hole I dug behind my bathroom mirror and a bag of carefully packed fresh molly inside my toilets…and I have never been more tempted to take them than I am now,” she answered truthfully, taking a sip of her wine. Kan thought it was a bit weird for someone to have zero problem with alcohol, yet still struggled to stay away from drugs– Marinette said it wasn’t the same, and that alcohol was overall less harmful than heroin– that it was like smokers who tried to tame their cigarette addiction with nicotine patches– but he wasn’t sure he really believed that.

            “What happened?”

            She shook her head, looking away, and he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer. “Do you believe in the theory of a multiverse?”

            He seemed a little taken aback by her question. “As in…you mean like in the Marvel Comics?”

            She scoffed. “More like research and studies signed Stephen Hawking, but…sure. What do you think about parallel universes? Do you believe in them?”

            “Dreams are kind of a parallel universe if you think about it. But…like other than that? Uh…I don’t know. I don’t think so. It seems rather complicated, doesn’t it? Why?”

            “Huh. Oh, nothing… I was just reading a book about it,” she lied. “I thought it could be fun to discuss it.”

            “What’s on your mind?”

            “It’s dumb. Plus, I think I already know the answer.” Kan crooked an eyebrow at her and insisted for her to elaborate. She rolled her eyes and pouted. “If you had a wish that you could change and alter anything – _anything_ – about your past…how do you think it will affect your future?”

            Kan took a minute, in which his food was delivered, to think about what she just said. “I wouldn’t change anything,” he replied, and he looked terribly convinced of his answer.

            Marinette seemed surprised. “Nothing?”

            He shook his head. “Not a single thing.”

            “How come?”

            “The past is the past– I’d rather not to mess with it. I’d be too afraid to lose what I have now.” Marinette’s lips curled into a tiny smile, but she didn’t say anything. “What?” he wondered.

            She shrugged. “Nothing… I just… I liked your answer.”

            Kan smirked, scratched his cheek, glancing away. “You know,” he tried to sound indifferent and detached, maybe even a little aloof, which was a terrible look on him, but Marinette bit on the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing and still forced herself to take him and whatever he was about to say, completely seriously. “If you’re so against the idea to go back home, you could still crash at my place. Like, if you want to, of course. I only live a couple streets away.”

            Marinette let out a soft giggle, but was able to swallow back the giant guffaw that was still tickling her in the back of her throat. “Hmm, come again, handsome?”

            Kan rolled his eyes at her. “Not like that, God… I meant you could sleep on the couch and like…you know, not be alone tonight. You seemed pretty shaken when I ran into you earlier. I _swear_ I won’t try anything.”

            Marinette pouted. She ran her fingers along her wineglass and took a deep sip. “You know I care about you Kan…”

            He nodded. “One terrible nightmare come to life.”

            “Shut up,” she laughed. “Fine. I’ll stay with you. But I’m taking the bed.”

            Kan scoffed. “Now, you’re just taking advantage of my hospitality.”

            “Your couch is very uncomfortable,” she replied. “Always manages to mess up my neck. You’re a tough guy, you can handle it.”

            “I’ll ease you with a massage in the morning,” he countered, a crafty smile on his lips.

            A frisky light glimmered in Marinette’s eyes. “Yeah? How’s your hand game?”

            “There had never been any complaint…”

 

***

 

“Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Moretti,” Adrien smiled at the old woman behind the wheel as he reached for the door handle and stepped outside the car. “And…thank you again, for…you know, bailing me out and all– I feel like saying in a hundred times still isn’t enough,” he chuckled. “I promise I will pay you every cent back. You have my word,” he swore, closing the door behind him and pressing his palms against the open window.

            Mia, the flower shop owner, had signed his release maybe half an hour ago and had been kind enough to drive him from the station to his house in Versailles– Adrien chose not to ask her how she knew he had been arrested and where to find him– Mia knew lots of stuff. She had her ways. He was probably better off without an answer anyway. He had had the time to sober up on the way here.

            She flashed him a beautiful smile. “I’m just glad I could help,” she assured him. “I was told also you had a nice chat with Marinette while you were there. How did it go?”

            Adrien tried to ignore the part of his brain that was shouting him that she might have had something to do with it. “Really well, actually. I think she’s finally beginning to trust me again. I mean, she doesn’t hate me anymore, so that’s a start, I guess.”

            “I’m so happy to hear it. I’m also very pleased to see the ‘lost’ diary helped,” she said, maybe not quite realizing the weight of her words just yet. “I’m not usually one that goes around shouting I-told-you-so’s, but I _told_ you that rose had magical properties and that it would bring the two of you closer together. You and Marinette are made for each other. You’ll win her back in no time.”

            Adrien nodded, as he took a couple of steps back, drawing out a hand to wave at her, hiding the sounds of gears clicking in his brain behind big smiles and clueless green eyes. “Good night, Mrs. Moretti. Have a safe trip back. I hope to see you soon.”

            “Take care, Adrien.” She drove away.

            Adrien turned around to walk toward the giant gate of the mansion, opened it, and paced across the gardens, almost running inside. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, as he shut the doors behind him. “Fucking– Ugh. _Fuck_.”

            Adrien still wasn't sure about what was happening exactly, he just knew that something wasn’t right– In this world, Mia shouldn't know about him and Marinette. She shouldn't about the rose, either- he had to stop confusing her with the Mia of his own world, because that Mia was a different one, just like the Marinette and Nino of this world were different from the Marinette and Nino he knew. I mean, Mia didn't even know who he was buying the flowers to when he had stopped by her shop at the beginning of the week. He had had to tell her about Marinette before she started going on about her power of sensing true love and whatnot.

            Besides, now that he was thinking about it, that Mia shouldn’t even know him; in his own world, Adrien met Mia while he was visiting his mother at the hospital. In here, in this alternate universe, his mother was never sick and consequently, was never in a hospital. Adrien shouldn’t have even  _met_ Mia; this time he stopped by her to buy roses for Marinette was supposed to be their very first encounter ever, but she had acted like she’d known him for years.

            It didn’t add up- It didn’t make any sense. It looked like a glitch and, suddenly, he felt like he was about to find a thousand more of them, glitches. Ideas, thoughts, millions of images were spinning like tiny tornadoes inside his head. He could feel the electricity pulsing behind his eyes and a white light blinded him each he tried to close them. One weak, desperate, terrifying explanation made its way to the center of his brain. He was stuck in limbo.


	8. The Ministry of Lost Souls

 As he leaned his back against the main door, Adrien caught a glimpse of a decorative white and blue Chinese vase placed on a console table by the window and started to wonder if it would repair itself magically and reappear in its place, if he was to throw it on the ground and break it, then leave the room– he was actually very tempted to try out this theory, even after he said it out loud and it sounded like the most ridiculous, absurd thing that has ever gotten out of his mouth.

            “Adrien, is that you, honey?”

            Adrien immediately recognized his mother’s voice coming from her office behind the staircase, and he was just about to join her, when she stepped out of the room and into the hallway, a freshly printed manuscript in hands. She was dressed in a deep blue nightgown and had let her hair down– they melted on her shoulders like a waterfall of liquid gold. She took her glasses off as she saw him and let them hang on the string she wore around her neck.

            “Are you just coming home?”

            Adrien felt the need to check his watch. It was almost one o’clock. He wondered what his mom was still doing up working, and then realized she probably just didn’t see the time pass– Emilie worked for a publishing house, _Les Editions Baudelaire_ , which was kind of a big name in the industry, and even though Adrien wasn’t a hundred percent sure what her job entailed, he knew she spent most of her time reading, proofreading and editing future bestsellers.

            “Adrien?” His heart skipped a beat, his fingertips ran cold. He tried to smile, but it appeared crooked and weird. He could feel giant sweat drops forming at the back of his neck, right behind his hair, and slowly slithering on his skin, freezing hot.

            “Huh? Uh, y-yeah… I-I just got home.”

            Emilie frowned. “Where were you? You look like you need a shower. Urgently. What is this smell?”

            “Oh, uh…I was– Um, just, you know, _in jail_ for a couple of hours. No biggie,” Adrien stammered out. He felt like he was choking on every letter. “An old… _friend_ bailed me out.”

            “ _Excuse me_? You were _where_ , now?”

            He shrugged, shoved his hands down his pockets. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just something everyone needs to do once or twice in a while, you know?”

            Adrien could spot it, the exact moment where the splash of anger he could see on Emilie’s face turned into a full mask of worry. “Adrien? Are you okay? You look…distressed.” She put down the manuscript and took a couple of steps toward her son, who was still standing against the door– he felt like if he even tried to stand up on his own, he was going to faint.

            He chuckled. “That’s a nice way of putting it.” His whole body was trembling– His skin was hurting–he figured it was the first step before it started to curl off his bones. Even his eyelids were burning him.

            There were many pictures on the walls but Adrien only recognized the one above the stairs, in the platinum frame. It was a photo of Gabriel and Emilie on their wedding day; they were posing right under the flowery white arch. They were smiling– she was holding a bouquet of pink peonies and he still had this glorious gray beard that made him look like a hot Steve Carell. It used to be hanging up above the fireplace in their old home in Paris. Adrien always liked looking at it.

            “I don’t remember the day we took that picture,” he said, pointing instead at a portrait of him in front of his grandparents’ house in Normandy, wearing cute purple shorts and suspenders. “When was it?” He paused, then turned toward a couple of other pictures of him and his parents sharing ice cream at amusement parks or sticking their tongues out at old statues in museums… just looking like they were having the time of their lives– He could almost hear them laugh.

            Adrien was a model, though. So he knew a thing or two about deceptive smiles and misleading appearances. Besides, when has Gabriel ever been free to take his son and his wife out on a walk by the Seine on a beautiful summer day?

            “I don’t remember any of those, actually,” he said, shaking his head. “ _Why_ don’t I remember anything _about_ this life?” he wondered, but he wasn’t sure his mother heard him.

            “You reek of alcohol. Are you drunk?”

            Adrien pouted, shook his head. “I don’t–I don’t think so. No. Not anymore, at least.”

            “Then…” Emilie reached for her son’s cheeks and moved his bangs away from his eyes. It was nice to feel her touch, he thought. He missed that– Having her by his side. Suddenly, he remembered why he did what he did– For her– Because he missed her– Because, at the end of the day, Adrien was just a little boy who wanted his mom to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight before he went to sleep. “What is going on?”

            He pressed his lips together and glanced away. “Um…I’m…” He swallowed, took a deep breath in, and closed his eyes. “W-why–why… _Why_ did we move to Versailles, Mom?”

            Emilie frowned, looking a little confused. “What do you mean?”

            He shook his head. “It wasn’t that far away, you know. Like, worst case scenario, I could’ve rented a college dorm or something. We didn’t have to like _move_ to Versailles.”

            Emilie rested both her hands on Adrien’s shoulders and smiled. “Well,” she sighed, “you know how your dad gets when we spend too much time apart…”

            He clicked his tongue, nodded. “So, that hasn’t changed, has it?”

            “What do you mean?”

            He shrugged. “Father’s paranoia. T’s still there.” He grunted. “I-I don’t know…I just can’t seem to make sense of anything at all right now.”

            “Are you high? Is that what that is?” Emilie barked, pressing her thumbs at each side of Adrien’s mouth and tilting his head backward, looking for proof but not yet sure of what she was supposed to find. His face was drenched with sweat.

            “M-maybe,” Adrien didn’t want to strike out the possibility– The last time he felt this disconnected was when he agreed to smoke one of Max’s _special_ roll-ups. “I-I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s happening. Are my pupils dilated? ‘Cause I feel like my heart is beating _really_ fast. I think I’m going to be sick.”

            “Okay, honey, _breathe_. What did you take?”

            Adrien closed his eyes and searched his brain for memories he had of the night; none of them depicted him consuming illicit substances. “I don’t…I have no idea– I was fine in the car; but maybe it just takes time to kick in, you know? Do you really think I’m on drugs right now? Is _that_ how it feels like? I’m not so sure I like it. I don’t remember taking anything, though.” He was talking fast; words were running on his tongue like they were chased out of his throat. “My legs hurt. My legs hurt…I c…I can’t b–” His legs didn’t actually hurt– he just couldn’t feel them anymore. He barely even registered that he had fallen down when he did, and would’ve probably never noticed it, if he didn’t see that his mom was kneeling in front of him now, her eyes awfully nervous.

            “Adrien, honey, you need to concentrate on my voice, okay? You are having a panic attack. It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. Just look at me.” Her voice was soothing and looking at her face made him feel better, but the words she was saying terrified him and echoed in the back on his mind.

            “A p-panic attack? I’ve never had a panic attack before.”

            “Look at me. Listen to me. What you are feeling is scary, but it is not dangerous, alright? Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in here. Stay with me. Let go of the thought.”

            It wasn’t easy to stop thinking– it wasn’t like he could just make a giant pillow appear and smother the loud voices screaming inside his brain with it. These voices were immortal– if he tried to chase them away, they would just hide inside his heart, where he wouldn’t be able to get to them.

            “My chest hurts. Ma-m-my ch-chest hu-rts…” _Was that what a heart attack felt like?_

            “You can get through this. Tell me what you need. Do not forget to breathe.”

            He groaned. He _couldn’t_ just ‘breathe.’ Didn’t she get that, by now? His airways were swollen and his body was bloating up under his clothes– they felt so tight suddenly, he thought they were ropes holding him against the ground.

            Was this world even real? No, nothing was and he was completely alone.

            “I-I need to get out of here.” He needed to see Marinette– he needed to warn her about everything that was going on…but she probably wouldn’t believe him. Even this world's Marinette wasn't real- No, she  _was_ real. She was just _different_.

            “The problem is not with the place. It’s in your mind. Adrien, you need to let go of the thought.”

            “Am I dying?”

            “No,” Emilie assured him. “You are not dying.”

            “I _am_ dying.”

            “No, it’s not real.”

            “None of it is,” he whispered.

            “The _sensation_ is not real,” Emilie corrected him. “I’m here. You’re home. Everything will be alright. Just breathe. No one is dying tonight,” she said, gently stroking Adrien’s cheek.

            “I feel like my heart is going to explode…”

            “Well, it’s not going to. You are going to be just fine. I promise.”

 

 

Kan was only wearing a pair of blue and gray boxer shorts when he stepped into the dining room, stretching both his arms above his head.

            Marinette was sitting at one end of the table, researching something on the internet, as he quietly made his way to her. “‘Morning, Red,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss the top of her head before he took place on a chair next to her.

            She didn’t even lift her eyes from her computer screen. “Hey.”

            “What are you doing?”

            “Me?” she wondered in a not so very innocent voice. “Nothing. You, on the other hand? You’re buying me a sexy ass dress for Saturday night.”

            Kan raised both his eyebrows at her and looked at her in disbelief. Then, his mouth broke into a giant smile and he started to laugh. “Am I now?”

            Marinette nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m getting it delivered to my house, though. You know, so your neighbors won’t assume you’re some kind of freak who likes to dress up his sex doll all fancy and cook her nice dinners and all.”

            He scoffed. “Seems legit.” She smiled. “You’re more my type, though.”

            Marinette smirked. “Well, you’re definitely not _mine_.”

            “Really, now?”

            “Yeah… I mean, with like your piercings everywhere and that disgusting neck tat of yours…” She pouted. “I find that physically _repulsive_.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, smiling the craftiest of smiles. Even she didn’t believe herself– she pursed her lips together. “What are you doing up so late, anyway?”

            “Got called in for a job downtown.”

            She finally glanced away from her computer and glared at him. “Seriously? It’s 3 A.M.” He didn’t reply. She just rolled her eyes at him and returned to her laptop. “You’re going picking daisies and poppies in the park again?”

            “Something like that.”

            “Dumping old clothes in the Seine, maybe? Or…even doing some laundry? So?” she asked, crossing her hands under her chin, and suddenly looking terrifying. “Which is it?” Kan continued to avoid her gaze, mouth closed. “You know, if you wanna do this, you gotta give me something, man. You gotta cooperate.”

            Kan clicked his tongue. “Tell me how it’s all gonna go down.”

            Marinette let out a deep breath as she closed the laptop and pushed it away. “Like, have you ever seen a cop movie, _any_ cop movie, like _ever_?” she chuckled. He didn’t seem amused. “I’ll have a wire on,” she said, more seriously, this time. “There’ll be a couple of dozen cops around, maybe a team in a surveillance van. Guns. Snipers. All exits covered. No way out. Blah blah...”

            He sniffled and nodded. “Word has it you arrested a sister in Berlin,” he decided to change the subject. “How’s that working out for you?” Marinette’s only answer to that was a shrug. “She will not talk, you know, and then, they’ll inevitably find a way to off her. You were all sniffing around like angry hounds, they got scared. They threw you a little bone. Rita only serves as a safe house, though. I don’t think she knows much.” He snorted, shook his head. “They use her apartment to hide records and counterfeit money. It’s probably too late now –and by that, I mean that they probably took out and cleaned up everything– but… I think it’s still worth a try.”

            Marinette covered her face with her hands and let out a deep sigh. “Thank you,” she said, but her palms around her mouth muffled her voice. “Wasn’t so difficult, now, was it?”

            Kan frowned, shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing. These guys, they don’t joke around.” He paused. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He smirked. “Wanna join?”

            Marinette rolled her eyes at him. “I’m good.”

            He shrugged. “Your loss,” he said, blowing her a kiss, before he stood up and disappeared into the hallway.

            Kan had a very nice apartment, Marinette always believed so. It was a two-bedroom with a beautiful view on the city and the furniture all looked expensive and were arranged in a way that made it seem as if they had directly been taken out of a home furniture catalog. His bed was big and terribly comfortable as well– _much_ more than hers. He slept on Egyptian cotton and a thousand pillows filled with goose down.

            _Perks of being a criminal_ , the thought crossed Marinette’s mind, as she reached for her phone on the table and dialed Sabrina’s personal number.

            It was late and the latter was probably already asleep by now, but the middle of the night was the only time Marinette could actually get some police work done, so she was used to her calls going straight to voicemail, and leaving her partner all kind of memos on new leads or really anything that popped to her attention while she reviewed old files, sometimes out of pure boredom.

            Needless to say, it came a bit of as a surprise, when the Chief’s daughter in point of fact answered. “ _This better be good_.” Sabrina’s voice was a bit coarse– Marinette assumed it was the call that woke her up.

            “Well, it could be, if you tell me that Berlin still has that Rita Öschen woman in custody.”

            “ _Uh…_ ” Marinette could hear noises in the background and immediately pictured Sabrina getting out of bed and trotting to her desk to turn on her computer. “ _I mean, I guess so. They arrested her only yesterday. Technically, they get to keep her until tomorrow. Why?_ ”

            “Great. Tell them to search her apartment. According to Kan, it might still contain some evidence that could help us take down the German gang.”

            “ _Oh, wow… That’s– That’s great!_ ” Sabrina was whispering, probably because her whole family was sleeping, but Marinette could still sense the enthusiasm in her tone. “ _I could contact the night shift right now and get the whole apartment turned upside down by dawn._ ”

            Marinette let out a light chuckle. “You’re welcome.”

            She was about to hang up, when Sabrina asked, “ _W-wait… Marinette? A-are you with Kan right now?_ ”

            The bluenette shrugged even though she knew Sabrina wouldn’t be able to tell. “Uh, yeah. I’m in his apartment.”

            “ _Are you_ insane _? What are you doing there? Do you want to get yourself killed?_ ”

            “I’m fine, Bree,” Marinette scoffed.

            “ _I thought you weren’t sleeping with the guy…!_ ”

            “Yeah,” she sighed, “you know that thing people do sometimes when they don’t want to tell the truth? I do that all the time. I’m only surprised you haven’t figured out my tell yet.”

            “ _Get out of this apartment, Marinette. Stat. This guy is dangerous_.”

            “Just call the Kartofel freaks and tell them about Öschen, alright? I’ll talk to you later.”

            “ _Why? What are you doing?_ ”

            Marinette shook her head and tried to sound as innocent and naïve as possible. “Oh, nothing. I’m just gonna take a shower real quick. I’ll let you know if there are any updates,” she promised, before she hung up and tossed her phone away. It began to ring almost immediately, with Sabrina’s contact flashing up on the screen, but Marinette muted it and stepped into the living room before she headed down the hallway and entered the bathroom. Kan was still in the shower– he had left the door open as an invitation, in case Marinette changed her mind.

            She smiled and quickly disposed of her clothes before she joined him under the water, circling her arms around his chest and pressing her cheek against his skin. He was sopping wet. She breathed in. He smelled like daisies and cinnamon.

            He brushed his fingers against the back of her arms and sighed. “I grew up with this gang, you know.”

            “I know.”

            “I run most of the operations. But I kept my name off of everything. When this whole thing falls apart, the easiest thing I could do is to disappear.” Marinette didn’t reply. “On Saturday, you’re going to meet Seb. He works for us– He’s at the head of many French and international companies and we’ve been using his firms to launder counterfeit money for years.” He paused, took some shampoo in his palm and started to wash his hair. Marinette could feel the soap dripping on her. She closed her eyes. “He’s a dead end, though. You’ll get nothing from him.”

            “How come he has his place on the table, then?” she asked in a low voice and Kan almost didn’t hear her under the water.

            He shrugged. “He’s our cover. He thinks he’s irreplaceable. We like to make him believe that.”

            “Are you the big boss? Is that what you’re trying to say?” she snorted. “Is that supposed to impress me, somehow?” She paused. “Why am I learning about it just now?”

            He shook his head. “I still follow orders...but, as far as I’m concerned, I’m at the head of the French gang, yeah– Or the closest thing to it, at least. I was basically born into it. The guys trust me. Plus, I’m way smarter than I let it show. I just…climbed my way to the top, I guess. The guy before me was a _mess_. I was able to get the pigs off our asses and made the Scarlett Lilies almost disappear. I cut deals with people in high places and have ten defense attorneys under my thumb who hate losing cases. French police thought we were done when they caught Flaco. That is, until you came along, of course. You just _had_ to keep digging.” He smirked to himself as he threw his head back to rinse off the bubbles. “It would’ve impressed anyone other than a cop, by the way– and terrified most people…but gang leaders don’t go around shouting on all rooftops that they’re gang leaders. They’d be a too easy target.”

            “I’m _not_ afraid of you.”

            “I know,” he snickered. He then turned around, gently detaching himself from Marinette, as he reached for the shampoo bottle and poured some of it on her head. She hummed in approval and let herself relax as she felt his fingers move softly against her scalp. “The British gang, Fire Crows, is led by a guy named Damon Rothschild, but we just call him Ruthie. ‘Cause he’s _ruthless_.” Marinette pouted. He chuckled. “Come on, I thought it was funny.”

            “It wasn’t,” she assured him.

            “Whatever. You always had a crappy sense of humor anyway. So, Damon…yeah... That guy’s not really the kind of guy you can really get along with. He has killed _so_ many people– he’d probably kill me too if he could get away with it. You’re going to meet him as well. He’s kind of my English gangster twin, if you will.” She still didn’t laugh. He rolled his eyes at her, and carried on, “The German gang is based in Berlin, as you certainly know it already. They call themselves the _Guardians of Limbo_ – well, it’s a rough translation. My German is not exactly the best.”

            “Pretty cocky, if you ask me. But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from people whose national anthem literally states the greatness of their country and how it is above the whole world.”

             “See? You _can_ be funny,” Kan giggled. “I’m not exactly tight with them, so I can’t tell you who’s at their heads,” he pursued, a bit more serious. “I remember some rumors I heard though, about our friend Rita being one of the boss’s sidepieces– so,” he shrugged, “if you manage to make her speak, it’s possible that she knows a little more than what she lets appear.”

            Marinette nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell them to investigate that route.”

            “Good. There’s also going to be some representatives of the Austrian and the Lebanese gangs–” At this information, Marinette’s eyes almost popped out of her skull.

            “I– T-there’s…you have bases in Austria and Lebanon, as well?”

            Kan ran his fingertips across her cheek and winked. “We’re everywhere, baby,” he simpered. “I also heard the head of the Beirut base is going to bring his two wives with him, so… They definitely won’t think about it twice if I ever decide to invite let’s say my ‘girlfriend,’” he said, and one could hear the quotation marks in his voice as he pronounced the last word.

            The water was still running, washing away the soap. Kan looked handsome when he wasn’t wearing that god awful hoodie and with his hair pushed out of his face. He had a strong jaw, piercing ocean blue eyes and long, thick, dark eyelashes. His cheekbones seemed so sharp, Marinette was sure she would cut herself if she was to touch them too rashly, carelessly.

            “What about the Russian and the Chinese gangs?” she wondered– she didn’t know if those even existed, but then again, she didn’t know there were Austrian and Arab gangs too; she decided to take a chance. People always liked to talk about the Chinese and Russian mafias, so she figured her guess was as good as any other.

            Kan’s lips curled up to form a tiny smile as he placed his hands on her waist and drew her closer to him, making her blush a little. He felt pride when he realized it and leaned in to drop a couple of kisses along her neck and shoulder. “Those never show up to anything. They’re deep underground. They hardly ever communicate. We don’t know what they’re up to most of the time. It’s like they barely exist.”

            She let out a deep sigh, shook her head. “How do I pull them out of their wholes, then?”

            “You don’t,” he replied, kissing his way to her jaw, before he stopped and straightened up to look at her. “You burn down their supplies and wait quietly. Then, you watch, as they slowly tear down the walls they built around themselves because they’re unable to breathe and the smoke is suffocating them.” He paused to think about what to say next and, while he was at it, he took a long look at her– he never hid from her how beautiful he found her, but now, he was staring at her as if he was in love with her. “It’s our ability to _flip our game_ that keeps us from getting caught,” he said.

            She frowned. “What does _that_ mean?”

            “It means that this month you caught me dealing cocaine on the streets, but next week, I might be hiring middle-aged housewives to carry weapons across the borders,” he revealed and watched her, as she drank his words. “The French and British gangs are tight because we switch tasks all the time. But as careful as we are, the Germans outshine us. They’re good at keeping a low profile. Like the Austrians. And the fact that bank confidentiality is _inscribed_ into the Lebanese constitution makes it even easier for our Middle Eastern friends to stay under the radar,” he explained. “At the end of the day though, we’re all just little insects caught in a giant spider web that spreads all across the world. We’re the major link that ties you to the Big Boss, but really, it’s not us you should care about– and if you want to catch the Birdeater, well, it’s what you said. The Montrose shipment is everything.” Marinette was silent after that. She glanced away. “What is it?”

            “The Lilies is your _baby_ ,” she said, not finding the courage to peer up at him. “Why are you helping me? How am I still alive?”

            Kan placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head up to make her meet his eye. “Do you know what they make us do to prove our loyalty to the gang?” he asked.

            “You had to eat a goat’s heart?” she tried to guess. “That’s so gross.” Kan chuckled.

            “Close enough,” he nodded. “But you… You trusted me because I _asked_ you to,” he whispered. He shook his head. “Look, I’m tired. I want to rest. And I want to be with you. I don’t mind giving it all up if it means I get to have you…but you already know that.” He scoffed. “You did something to me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and now, I cannot get enough of you. You are _dangerous_.”

            Marinette’s lips parted and she was about to say something but instead, she stood on her toes and kissed him. She didn’t have to wait long for him to kiss her back and welcomed him, as he slid in between her teeth, brushing his own tongue against hers. He pressed his thumbs against her cheeks to get her to open her mouth wider and dived in deeper. She could feel his body pushing up against her, as her back softly aligned with the white bathroom tiles, still cold, despite all the steam.

            One thing that was maybe the most surprising about Kan was how careful he was whenever he touched her, how gentle his hands really were, as they slithered across her skin, delicately patting on her breasts, her waist, her stomach, and her thighs, before he grabbed one of her legs to place around his waist. Marinette chuckled against his jaw and laid the back of her head against the wall, waiting, as he found his way between her hips. A long moan escaped her shortly after, as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, nearly overcome by the sensation.

            “Already?” he teased her, a glow of friskiness in his eyes. Her nails dug trenches along his biceps, as she strived to form coherent sentences, or even speak properly– Kan was almost sure she was just going to come up with a shrewder, cannier comeback anyway, so he kept going, faster and deeper, quashing her words under groans and sounds she was no longer able to repress.

            Kan liked to joke but he too struggled to contain the overwhelming feelings that submerged him whenever he was with Marinette; he knew, and strongly believed, that her sole presence, her sharp blue gaze, could break down a grown man. Her warmth, her wetness, her sighs, her voice…wrecked absolute havoc on everything that made him who he was and seeing her like this, breathless, her skin flushed with pink and red, her body on the very edge of collapsing altogether, it was simply impossible for him to deny her a single thing–

            There was something about this girl that turned the world around her to dust and shadows. Her lips were a haven and their kisses put her preys under a spell before capturing their souls.

            She shook her head. Hellfire burned inside her eyes. “You have no idea what you do to me, Kan Collier.” And her promises would make anyone’s mind go numb.

 

***

 

“Okay, okay,” Sabrina let out a painful sigh, both her hands pressed against her face, as she kneeled in front of Marinette, who was already sitting on a chair, to be at the same eye level as her friend. “Say it one more time. _Just_ so we can be sure.”

            Marinette rolled her eyes at her partner, looking extremely exasperated, but Sabrina frowned and insisted on her request.

            The bluenette glanced over at Roger, who was sitting across from her, with his arms crossed on his desk. He nodded as if to agree with his daughter.

            Now that he had lost some weight and gained a significant amount of muscles, Roger looked way more intimidating than he ever did before– Also, he grew a beard. It was just as orange as his hair but added a little something to his appearance and made him look more confident and assertive. It was from him that Sabrina got her popping colors and adorable freckles.

            Marinette stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at the pair. Roger didn’t budge. “I arrive at the _Lavandière_ , and Kan introduces me to…whoever is at the head of the international operation,” she finally gave in and did what she asked to do. “I gather as much information as I can on the Montrose shipment– When, where, who, and how…and all will be retransmitted to you, thanks to these babies,” she gestured at her diamond earrings, where was implanted a wireless microphone.

            Sabrina started to bite her nail. “Remember, it’s _not_ an affront. It’s only a mission of recognition.”

            Marinette glared at her. “I know. Do _not_ engage.” She paused and for a second there, looked like she was thinking about something. Sabrina got off her knees and leaned back against her father’s desk, shooting her friend an inquiring look. “How’d you got me into the _Lavandière_ , by the way? I never asked.”

            Sabrina clicked her tongue, feeling all smug all of a sudden. “Remember that couple thousands of favors Jagged Stone owed you?” Marinette giggled.

            “Well,” Roger garnered the girls’ attention, “it appears as if you did it, detectives,” he smiled at his daughter and her friend, and got to his feet, immediately mirrored by both of them. “I hope next time I’ll see you two in uniforms, it’ll be with the Medal of Gratitude around your necks,” he said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

            Sabrina blushed and looked down, trying not to smile too much. Marinette’s face fell dead serious. “Thank you, sir. It’ll be the greatest honor.” She sounded truly sincere.

 

 

Inside the club, it was like dancing on Northern Lights; beneath the dry ice smoke churned an array of blues, acid greens, hot pinks, and gold. The music played over the dance floor as if it had fused with the bodies. It was loud like a thousand thunders and made the walls rattle.

            Marinette’s dress made her the most beautiful woman at the party– according to Kan, at least, but she still wasn’t sure if she should just take his word for it. She had worn a blue dress, just as he’d advised her. It was ankle-long and split on both sides, with long sleeves made of shiny black lace and a nice bow around the middle that held it all together.

            Jagged Stone’s personal chauffeur had arrived at her place at nine o’clock sharp and driven her to the _Lavandière_ in the rock star’s favorite limo. Jagged’s assistant Penny Rolling had then escorted her inside, where Kan was waiting for her in the main hall. He was wearing a nice purple suit and a pair of Italian shoes that looked like they cost more than Marinette’s entire wardrobe. A huge smile lit up his face when he saw her come in.

            “You look…” he paused as if he struggled to find an appropriate word to describe her beauty, “… _astounding_ ,” he said finally, leaning in to kiss the back of her bare hand–

            Marinette had a full drawer of gloves at home– She had them in every color; blue, pink…even yellow. She always wore them outside the house to hide her scars because, whenever she glanced down at them, she found them hideous and repulsive, and hated them more and more every time. Tonight, however, she could find none that nicely paired up with her gown, and so she had to go without.

            She knew the bold red marks that soared on her pale skin would never go unnoticed– and she was prepared for people looking and staring at her, scoffing not-so-discretely, and gossiping behind her back, trying to figure out where and how she got them, if she deserved them or not, and constructing their own droll little stories about what’s happened to her.

            For Kan, these scars simply did not exist. He never saw them– it made her feel a little less insecure. “Thank you,” she whispered.

            He smiled again and then turned to Penny to thank her for everything. As he spoke, Marinette almost did not recognize him– He seemed so perfectly at ease, as if he was born to wear expansive clothes and speak the tongue of the wealthy, while she still writhed to breathe properly in her corset and aptly walk with her giant heels, without falling on her teeth.

            He led her across the ballroom toward the V.I.P. circle and showed her to their table he had reserved for the night. There was a tall bottle of vodka sitting idle at the center, just now taken out of the freezer, and from which he immediately offered her some. She refused; she wanted to keep a straight head for when she was going to meet Kan’s colleagues. The latter still managed to convince her to dance with him when the D.J. played a Nirvana song, and whisked her to the middle of the dance floor.

            “You know, just because I put on a nice dress and we’re at a nightclub, doesn’t mean I’m not still working,” she reminded him, as she rested her elbows on his shoulders and agreed to follow his moves. “I’m supposed to be working tonight,” she repeated. “I’m not here all by myself, I hope you realize that.”

            “I thought I heard you say it was only a mission of recognition. Doesn’t it mean that the only backup you have is a couple of creepy colleagues in a minivan overhearing our conversation? Besides, you’re posing as my _girlfriend,_ ” he said, clicking his tongue. “ _Technically_ , you’re not _not_ doing your job by dancing with me or…like kissing me and stuff.”

            She crooked an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Nice try.”

            “Ugh, such a killjoy,” he whined, letting out an exaggerated sigh of protest. “You are _so_ boring.”

            “That’s not what you were saying last night,” she replied, pursing her lips.

            He smiled. “You weren’t boring, then.”

            She hummed, looking at him suspiciously. “Whatever you say, white boy…” He laughed at that and caught on her arm to spin her around, so that her back was against his chest and his hands were on her waist, softly guiding her hips to the rhythm of the music.

            The song’s tempo was a bit slower than that of the ones that were played earlier tonight to allow the people to rest and catch a breath after hours of bouncing and jumping up and down on the dance floor, contorting their bodies in odd angles that shouldn’t even be possible. The sound of the guitar was incomparable and Cobain’s voice ringed inside her head– Marinette couldn’t help but sing along.

            Kan was a great dancer and being in his arms didn’t feel strange at all– if anything, it felt natural, easy. His breath was hot, making the skin at the back to her neck melt. Her body rocked against his with need and hunger, as his hands snaked on her sides and over her stomach, always working to bring them nearer, closer to each other.

            “The Berlin P.D. was able to cut a deal with Rita, by the way,” Marinette thought mentioning it would reverse the fuzziness in her brain and get the latter back on track. She could hear Kan giggle in her ear, but carried on nonetheless, “All the documents were found to be in her name, but we all know that she’s not the one at the head of the German gang. So they’re using her to track down Günter.”

            “Who’s Günter?”

            “I don’t know. It’s a pretty common name in German, isn’t it? The statistics are in my favor.”

            He chuckled. “What if it’s a woman?”

            “You think it’s a woman?” she asked, instantly showing more interest in the conversation.

            Kan did not answer. Instead, he took advantage of the rising tempo to quicken his steps and capture back his partner’s full attention. He grabbed her hand in his, holding it tightly, before he undid their embrace and sent her spinning in the crowd, watching, as her dark hair slowly came undone and floated around her. She didn’t have the time to miss his touch for he caught her back almost immediately afterward, firmly clasping his palms around her middle, before he dipped her, and she could feel nothing but the air under her, and the gravity, pushing her down.

            Her mouth felt dry when she swallowed, his deep blue-green eyes staring straight at her, and they were so beautiful, it was as if she was looking at tiny pieces of ocean.

            “I feel like since I agreed to help you out, all you talk about is work,” he said, his voice, stabbing right through her chest. “Am I nothing but a mere C.I. to you?”

            She opened her mouth to speak but struggled to push the words out of her throat. “It’s not like that…”

            He smiled widely, before he brought her back to her feet, cutting her breath short. “Don’t take it so seriously. I was just messing with you,” he winked at her, as he resumed the dancing.

            Marinette tried to calm down and avoid his gaze as they swayed to the music. For that, she focused on the crowd; the faces of a hundred of dirty cops and corrupt politicians, dishonest judges, ruthless attorneys, B-listed celebrities, criminals with golden teeth and clean fingernails, some of which she recognized from the files she had studied so many times, and others’ of whom she gathered names and credentials to add them to a very long list of people she was hoping to arrest. Most of them will still walk free after their trial but will be watched closely, and that was still a win in her book.

            In the corner next to the fire escape, Marinette saw the face of a man with dark skin and light eyes, with a scar across his mouth, and it was glimmering under the lights of the club. He was talking to two other men wearing black clothes and beanies, and even though Marinette couldn’t possibly hear what they were saying, she could see by the look on their faces that it was very important. It intrigued her– she nudged at Kan’s arm and made him turn around. “Isn’t that Damon Rothschild over there?” she asked.

            “Ruthie? Where? Oh, y-yeah. That’s uh…him.” They were standing pretty far from them, but Kan assured her he’d know this scar anywhere.

            “Do you know who is he talking to? I can’t seem to make out their faces.”

            “I…” he hesitated. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before.” He paused, turned back to her. “They don’t really look all that friendly,” he joked, but Marinette was too caught into the situation to find it even remotely funny. “Let’s go and find out, shall we?”

            She blinked at him in confusion. “Wait…seriously?”

            Kan smiled and took her by the hand. “Yeah,” he said, making his way through sweaty bodies and lost limbs. “Why not? I’ll introduce you. This way, you won’t be able to tell me that _I_ kept you from doing your job tonight, and _you_ …” he shot her a crafty look form the corner of his eye, “…will be the only one to blame for your failures.” Marinette rolled her eyes at him but followed him nonetheless. “Ruthie!” Kan cupped his hands around his mouth to get his friend’s attention.

            Marinette could read the surprise on the latter’s face, and for a glimpse of a moment, he looked like he had been caught red-handed. It was barely for a second, but it was enough for Marinette to know that something, at least, didn’t feel so right– Damon then nodded at his men and their little group parted before Kan and she were close enough to see their faces.

            “Hey, man,” Kan greeted him as he walked up to him, extending an arm to execute their special handshake. “Almost didn’t see you there. What are you doing in that dark corner all by yourself? Wait. Do _not_ answer if it’s disgusting.”

            Damon laughed out loud, but Marinette couldn’t say if it was genuine. “The Kid-Mime in the _flesh_! Ah, it’s been a while. How have you been?”

            “Good-good. Say, who were the two gigolos you were talking to?”

            Damon scoffed and tried to avoid the question, but Kan insisted on the answer. “I’m telling you, dude, there’s _no_ need to worry about them.” He spoke French– his accent was horrible, granted, but it was better than Marinette’s terrible, terrible English. “They’re _cool_ – they’re legit. Speaking of…where have you been hiding this _beauty_?” he asked, turning to Marinette, who still had her hand in Kan’s– Damon saw this, and thought focusing on her would be a good way to distract his friend. He was absolutely right. “You…” he said, pointing a finger at her, “…have _absolutely_ nothing to do with a guy like him,” he giggled, drawing out a friendly hand. “Hi, I’m Damon.”

            She agreed to shake his hand, but didn’t know how to take his wink. “Marinette.”

            “ _Enchanté_.”

            She forced up a smile. “Likewise.” She looked tense– and for reason. This guy was nasty. He’s killed many people. He was dangerous. And she didn’t have her gun on her.

            “Do you mind if I steal her away for a minute on the dance floor?” Damon wondered, smirking nastily and waggling his eyebrows at Kan.

            “Why don’t you ask _her_?” the latter shot back, noticeably annoyed.

            “Alright.” Damon looked amused as he bowed in front of Marinette, visibly having a taste for theatrics. “Would you do me the _honor_ of accepting this dance, Marinette?”

            Marinette glanced at Kan, who nodded, before she followed Damon to the dance floor. “So, what’s your deal?” she asked, making it seem as if she was just trying to make conversation. Her eyes were big and innocent, and her voice clear and sweet.

            “How do you mean?”

            “You know what I mean.”

            Damon pursed his lips at her and smiled. “I work in _textile_.”

            “Like, as in a factory?” He nodded. “Is it yours? The factory? Do you own it?”

            He glanced at her in a strange way that almost made her regret trying to make him talk, or even agreeing to dance with him, but still managed to look idle and naïve enough, so he’d let his guard down and share the information with her. “It’s located just outside of London.”

            “Do you…cultivate your own cotton?”

            He tsked, made her pirouette, then brought her back to him, closer, this time, and she could feel his hands on her, crawling on her skin, cold.

            She didn’t like how their bodies moved against one another, how she felt exposed suddenly, and vulnerable, because his tone and his stares made her feel so small.

            “It’s imported, mostly.” It was obvious the questions annoyed him, but, and even thought Marinette well knew she’d better just stop poking the bear already, some crazy suicidal part of her brain convinced her to keep pushing.

            “Isn’t it hard to own a business like… _that_ …in the uh, current economic situation? In London, no less. It’s like you’re asking to go bankrupt,” she scoffed.

            “Not when you know the stock market as well as I do, and know how to track down and properly respond to your clientele’s needs and demands.”

            “Yeah, but that’s what every good business owner does. What makes _you_ stand out?”

            When he didn’t answer right away, Marinette really thought that was the end of their conversation and she wouldn’t be able to get any more information from him.

            “We…like to experiment in the labs,” he said, and she tried not to act so surprised when he spoke after a couple of minutes of dead beat silence. “You know, come up with new uh…dyes. Gum Pop. Lazy Galaxy. Hellfire blue…” he started to list. Her eyes widened. “Ever heard of them?” She had, in fact, heard of those new ‘ _dyes_ ’– The department was never able to put their hands on them, however. “Plus, I mean…everybody needs _clothes_ , right? Nudists are just too far up on their high horses to face the _bare_ truth.” He laughed at his own joke– Marinette forced out a giggle, too.

            “So, you sell clothes?”

            He shook his head. “Just the fabric.”

            “Who do you sell it to?”

            “You’re particularly chatty, Marinette,” he answered, and there was something dark shining in his eyes. Her face went pallid and she just stared at him blankly, with no idea how to respond to that. She opened her mouth, tried to form words, but Damon was scary enough to devour them. She could feel the tips of her toes freeze when he chuckled. “Hey, no sweat, pretty girl,” he said, eyeing her in the most disgusting of ways. “It’s okay.”

            He placed his hand on the small of her back and pressed himself fully against her. Instantly, she wanted to die.

            “You seem like a smart girl, Marinette,” he whispered to her ear, and she hated the way he pronounced her name. “I’d advise you to stop asking so many questions, or people might get the wrong ideas about you.” He smirked. “Why do you want to know all that? You don’t _need_ to know all that, right? It doesn’t concern you. And what doesn’t concern you, in this _business_ , you simply shouldn’t concern yourself about.” His face was dangerously close to hers– she could feel his minty breath on her lips, as well as the smell of rotten eggs at the back of his throat.

            This man has killed people. Many people. This man would kill Kan if it could make his life easier. He was a murderer. He didn’t care about anything other than himself and he was incapable of empathy. This man was dangerous and he had his arms around her, his hands, wandering all across her body, and the sole thought of it made her sick.

            “You know how I got where I am, Marinette?” he asked. She shook her head. “By assuming that everyone around me is out to get me,” he said. “I don’t trust anyone. And the only people I met that were as noisy as you are right now, well, to put it shortly, they ended up at the bottom of the English Channel,” he told her, drawing out a hand to brush off some of the hair she had on her face. He let his fingers linger on her skin after that, running the length of her neck to her cleavage, and all she could do was trying hard not to move. Not to anger him. “The song’s over,” he announced, quickly stepping away from her. “You should probably go back to you boo before he scratches my eyes out.”

 

***

 

In the nightclub’s bathrooms, Marinette was staring at her own reflection in the mirror, as she tried to breathe. Her airways felt clogged up. She pressed her arms against the sink and let out a painful sigh that almost tore her apart. Damon knew. There was no way he didn’t, after everything he just told her. He was going to kill her. She just blew the entire operation. Her eyes were red now, filled with tears she refused to cry– Her teeth gnashed against each other because she wouldn’t let out her sobs. Was she going to end up at the bottom of the English Channel as well?

            “Hey, there– everything alright with you?” a woman’s voice spoke behind her. Marinette lifted her head up to see a nice looking blond woman with a pixie cut enter the bathrooms. She wore a silver ring on her nose and had a very thick oriental accent.

            She sniffled, shook her head. “My hair is ruined,” she said, gesturing at herself in the mirror. “I got it done specially for tonight.” She wasn’t lying, technically– She _had_ let Sabrina braid it, following the ‘easy’ instructions of some beauty influencer on YouTube, and now, it was, in fact, completely ruined from all the dancing.

            “Whatever you say,” the woman scoffed. She was rolling her r’s and Marinette didn’t think she even noticed when she employed the wrong terminology of words– She leaned over the sink to check out her makeup and ruffle up her hair. “You know, I can pretend you don’t have smeared mascara all over your cheeks and go back to the party, or, if you wanna feel better, I can tell you that… I may have something for you,” she suggested while reapplying some lipstick. It was dark, matched her skin tone.

            Marinette crooked an eyebrow at her. “W-what do you mean?”

            The blond woman smirked and straightened up, before she turned to face the bluenette. She reached down her cleavage and took out a small see-through bag that contained two tiny pink pills with the letters Z and G inscribed on them.

            “Is that…?” Marinette didn’t need to finish her sentence for the other woman to know what she was asking– She nodded.

            “So? Aren’t you going to take it?” she asked. She was standing closer now, waving the drugs in front of Marinette’s face. “You won’t get any luckier than that, tonight.”

            Marinette pouted, seemed to think about it, weighing the pros and cons of her decision, before she just shrugged and took the pills. The woman smiled widely.

            “Attagirl,” she complimented her, before she reached for the bluenette’s hair and started to run her hands through it. “I like your hair,” she said, as she pulled it up in a nice ponytail. “Here. You look nice–

            “Those are lovely diamonds on your ears. You know, I have a similar pair at home. I bought them for myself a couple months ago, but my husband didn’t like them. I don’t think he’ll like it so much either, if he saw them on you… He’s very controlling, my husband, you know. Tonight is actually the first night in months that I’m spending at the house. He wouldn’t let me see or talk to my _friends_ , either. He’s been monitoring my every move, ever since the uh…earrings episode.”

            She was smiling lightly, holding Marinette’s eyes as she talked. She then took in a deep breath, placing both her hands on the young woman’s shoulders, and carried on.

            “The _Lavandière_ used to be one of the most notorious taverns, in the old days. Now, it’s one of the most eminent, elitist clubs there is. The building might be as well be as _ancient_ as this city, but the people don’t seem to mind that much. No matter the decade, all generations seem to love this little…den.

            “Do you happen to know who founded it?” Marinette shook her head; the blond woman pursed her lips and smirked. “Oh, well– This family is probably just as important as that of the Bourbons.” She sighed. “It’s a _dynasty_ , really. They’re all over the world, building empires and kingdoms that not a soul dares to defy.”

            She chuckled, Marinette didn’t understand why– she didn’t even know why that woman was telling her all, but felt weird interrupting her, especially since she had given her the drugs.

            “I always enjoyed watching people standing at the top of the clouds, falling. And I won’t rest until the Rosenbergs all turn to shooting stars and hit the earth.” She paused, glanced away, then back at Marinette. “Do you know what _Rosenberg_ means?

            “It’s a beautiful name, really. It literally translates into a _mountain of roses_.” Marinette counted ten seconds of dead beat silence, during which she finally realized that nothing that woman was telling her was left to chance, before the latter spoke again. “Anyway, I hope to later see you on the dance floor,” she winked at Marinette, on her way out of the bathrooms, and it was only then, the young cop finally figured out she had been talking to Lebanese gang leader Sabbah Shkor’s second wife, one of the FBI and MI6’s most prized inner informants.

            On her way to the bar, Marinette had long given up on getting her knees to stop shaking. She had taken her heels off and placed it on the counter, as she ordered a drink– okay, five. Not surprisingly, it was Sidoine who was tending the bar. She tried to ignore him at first, but in the end, she lowered herself to his level and actually responded.

            “I really hope you choke on all that shit you talk, someday,” she barked at him, as she bottomed-up her fourth drink.

            Sidoine’s mouth cracked into a large smile. “And I wish you stop pretending as if you can’t stand me,” he replied. “Nobody’s buying that act. You don’t hate me, you _love_ me. That’s why you’re sitting here, talking to me, instead of dancing your toes off with the Kid-Mime,” he said, taking away her empty glass and replacing it with another one.

            Marinette rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not saying I hate you,” she sneered. “All I’m saying is that…” she paused, took a sip of her drink as she thought of something sharp to say, “…I _hope_ your next blowjob is from a shark.”

            Sidoine scoffed and shook his head. “You keep saying mean things to me, but deep down, everybody knows it’s because you’re insecure. You’re _deflecting_.”

            Marinette shot him a jaded look. “You don’t even know what that word means.”

            “See what I’m talking about?” he shot back, smirking. “But, you know, I take it all because I know you don’t mean any of it. And besides, only Jesus can judge me. And that guy, I’m telling you, is freaking _in love_ with me.”

            She crooked an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, Jesus might love you and all, but everyone else here thinks you’re an asshole. _And_ there’s no changing that.”

            Sidoine pursed his lips at her. “Speaking of assholes…” he whispered, before he slipped away from her, pretending to serve another customer, right before Marinette was joined by Adrien Agreste.

            Her eyes widened at the sight of him, almost popping out of her head, as she nearly slipped her drink on the beautiful dress she had specially bought for tonight. He looked so pretty with his blond hair pulled back and his nice gray and blue suit, she practically blushed. “How are you even _here_?” she asked and didn’t realize how loudly she was speaking, until the words were out.

            “I-I need to talk to you,” he said, instead of answering.

            Marinette’s face fell and she got to her feet, leaving her heels and drink on the bar. “Look, I’m already spending a shitty night as it is, I _especially_ don’t need you on top of it all. Besides, I _cannot_ be seen with you, okay?” she tried to make him understand. “Now, go away– go do your puppy eyes somewhere else.”

            “Marinette, w-wait– I really need to tell you something…” he called after her, reaching for her hand. She didn’t let him pull her back.

            “No,” she repeated, firmly. “What you need is a _drink_. Here,” she said, grabbing hers, which was on the bar, and thrusting it into his hands. “Have a couple of those. On me. Do _not_ follow me.”

 

 

The sun sank low in the sky and the light of day was slowly draining away, giving way to the velvety dark of the night. Marinette had no idea how she got outside, but from where she stood she could hear the sound of chirping crickets in the bushes and could feel the air become cooler.

            There was a pool before her. She could taste the chlorine in her mouth. Mosquitoes were buzzing around her and next to her ears, but she didn’t seem like she had any mean to get rid of them.

            Under her foot, she found one of her earrings. It had been stepped on and was broken now, along with the mike inside of it. She kicked it toward the water and watched, as it sank, hoping it would bleach out any traces of DNA she might have left on it.

            This operation had been a fail from the very beginning anyway– I mean, sure, they have made some busts here and there, but, and until now, they haven’t been able to arrest any high-level dealers or find a major drug stash.

            She felt numb. She glanced down at her hand. It still held the little plastic bag that had been handed to her earlier, with the two pink pills inside. They were tiny and shaped like perfect circles– the Z and G stood for Lazy Galaxy, a new drug that Damon’s men have been smuggling on the streets of London for quite some time now, and on which Marinette was never able to put her hands on.

            Sabbah Shkor’s second wife’s name was Anita– Marinette finally remembered it, now. She was the one who implied she should get rid of the earrings.

            The Montrose shipment had been tonight, and they had missed it. Kan had deliberately brought her to this party, all this time only pretending as if he had agreed to help her, in order to be able to swing it all, and right under her nose. Sabrina had been right. Marinette _was_ an idiot.

            Kan didn’t love her– every word that spilled out of his mouth was deception and pure filth. She had been a moron enough to believe him, and now, she had lost. The Rosenbergs have won again. Anita had talked to her with a glimpse of hope in her voice, but it was already too late. The leaders of this Empire were far smarter than a naïve little girl with blue eyes and a daunting need to save what was broken.

            A tear ran down her cheek then, brighter than the stars above her, and she felt as if it burst a hole in a small pocket she had on her heart, which contained her sobs and her pain, letting everything out. Her body was hollow– All that was around her seemed so terribly wrong.

            In the distance, someone called her name. Secretly, she hoped it was Kan, running to her, trying to find a way to tell her that he didn’t, in fact, betray her, trying to figure out how to explain to her that he loved her and never meant to hurt her in any way– that she was indeed just as special to him as he’d always portrayed her.

            That everything he did, everything he said, wasn’t just a lie, a role he was playing to purloin her trust.

            But it wasn’t him.

            It was Adrien.

            Again.

            Marinette took a deep breath in and dried her tears, putting her poker face back on. “You just don’t know how to take a hint, do you?” she snorted, avoiding looking into his eyes, by maintaining her gaze on the pool.

            He smiled. “I don’t really give up that easily, no.”

            “I’m _literally_ asking you to give up,” she reminded him. “Honestly, at this point, you’re kind of being a jerk.”

            Adrien glanced down at his shoes. “I’m ah…sorry about that.”

            “What do you want?” she asked, finally turning around to face him. “What is it that you absolutely _need_ to tell me?”

            “I just…I wanted to apologize,” he admitted, still looking down.

            Marinette’s face softened. “You already did.”

            He shook his head. “No, I mean, I’m sorry about the way I acted these past few days. I know now that I shouldn’t have, and that I crossed a line, and I wanted to say that I _truly_ was sorry for that.” He paused, took in a deep breath. “I…I made a mistake, I… _betrayed_ you, and now, I’m here, in a world that barely even makes any sense to me, and I just assumed that I’d find here the same Marinette I left in that other reality I am from. I was w-wrong– because you two are very different, I see that _now_. You’ve lived different lives, made different choices, went on to different paths, and, in this life, I think that is what terrified me the most, I was…never really there for you. So, I’m sorry about that.”

            A cold shiver went up Marinette’s spine and her lips parted to speak, but then she realized he wasn’t done talking and decided not to interrupt him.

            He shoved his hands down his pockets, and glanced to the bushes behind her, anywhere really, to avoid looking at her. “When I arrived in this world, I was…really _scared_. B-because you weren’t there. So I tried to force you back into my life…but that is _not_ how I should’ve handled things. I approached you as if you were the Marinette that I used to know, when you weren’t, and I should’ve respected that, instead of insisting– instead of compelling myself to believe that you two weren’t two very distinct people.” He let out a painful sigh. “The only way you’re similar is how completely in love with both of you I am,” he concluded, finally looking up to meet her eyes. She felt her heart drop instantly. “This is not me giving up on us– This is me asking you for another chance. I-I know I probably don’t deserve it, but…if you agree to it, I _swear_ , I’ll do everything in my power to make it worth your while.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Kan. His act could've fooled me. But I was always Team Adrien, anyway...


End file.
